Over You
by rahleeyah
Summary: 15 years ago, Brenda Leigh Johnson and Sharon Raydor found themselves in the midst of a disastrous affair. When Sharon left DC for a new life in Los Angeles, they both thought they'd seen the last of each other.
1. Chapter 1

_But you went away  
>How dare you?<br>I miss you  
>They say I'll be ok<br>But I'm not going to  
>Ever get<br>Over you.  
>-"Over You", Miranda Lambert<em>

**···**

**Washington, DC, December 1997**

"We're not going to get another chance like this, Sharon," he said softly, and she couldn't help but hate herself for how defeated he sounded. Her hand drifted down to her belly, resting there as she tried to hold her tears back, to find a way to answer him somehow.

How could she let things get this bad?

"We could fix this, Sharon. We could get out of this hell hole, get you away from that fucking job," he never swore, not her Jack, who was always so kind, so good, "and we could be happy again. I don't know why you…" his voice trailed off; he'd known for three weeks and he still couldn't say the words out loud. How could she have done this to him? "I don't know why you did what you did," he finally said, not looking her in the eye, "but we could take the kids and we could start over. You and me. Like we were before."

_Before._ That was how they would reckon the time now. The time before Sharon cheated on Jack, and the time after. The time before Sharon shit all over everything they'd built, and the time after they tried to put themselves back together. She thought of the two little boys sleeping peacefully down the hall, completely unaware of the storm brewing in their parents' bedroom, and the little one growing in her belly, the one who would never know what things had been like _before. _

She sat down next to Jack on the bed, taking one of his hands in her own. His hands, so much larger than hers, the skin toughened from years of hard work, crisscrossed with a dozen tiny scars. She knew the story behind them all, had kissed each of them, one by one, had sat down at the kitchen table and cleaned him up and admonished him for not being more careful. She loved his hands.

"I'll go anywhere with you, baby," she said softly, and she meant the words more than anything she'd said to him in the last six months. "I love you," how she wished her voice wasn't shaking when she said those words, "And I want us to fix this. I want our family to be ok again." She didn't apologize for what she'd done. She couldn't. As much heartache as it had caused her and the people in her life, as disastrous as it had been, she couldn't say she was sorry. She couldn't say she regretted a moment of the time she's spent with her golden-haired lover.

Jack rested his forehead against hers, turning his hand over to wrap around her fingers, pulling her close.

"I'll leave tomorrow," she said. "I'll leave tonight. I'll go whenever you want, Jack, but please, _please_ let me say good-bye."

Jack pulled himself away, and she could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was trying not to scream at her. She couldn't blame him, not really; if the roles were reversed she would have slapped him by now but Jack was not the sort of man who would ever raise his hand to his wife. He rarely even raised his voice. Instead he stared determinedly at the wall, waiting for her to finish, the vein in his neck clearly visible as he tried not to rage.

"I know I've hurt you," she said, and he snorted at the understatement, "But I've hurt her, too. Let me tell her I'm leaving. Let me put this behind us."

He didn't answer her for a long time as he thought over her request and Sharon worried her lower lip between her teeth. Was it too much? Had she gone too far? Perhaps it hadn't been the wisest course of action, asking her husband for permission to say good-bye to her lover. She simply couldn't stomach lying to him anymore, and she couldn't imagine not going to Brenda Leigh one last time. She waited for the other shoe to drop, for Jack to say that he'd changed his mind, that he was going to Los Angeles without her. When he finally spoke, it was without the disgust she'd expected from him.

"You really care about her, don't you?" he asked softly, and before she could stop herself, Sharon felt one last lie slip past her lips.

"No," she said, "Not the way I care about you. She doesn't mean anything to me, but she doesn't deserve to be treated like shit because I made a bad decision."

"It was her decision, too," Jack pointed out. He hadn't blamed Brenda, exactly; he'd known it was his wife's choice to cheat, but Brenda had been willing to be the person Sharon cheated with, and that made him doubt her character. He turned his head to kiss his wife on the cheek before he stood up.

"You're right. You should tell her you're leaving. It's ok if you don't come back tonight," he added, eyes focused on the floor, and Sharon felt that all too familiar wrenching in her heart. How could she have done this to him?

"I'll be here when you wake up," she said as she rose, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Every morning from now on. I promise." She leaned in to kiss him, and he met her halfway, the way he always did.

···

Outside Brenda's apartment building and for the first time ever Sharon actually had a decent parking space. She went over the speech in her head for the fourteenth time, making sure she had all the words she needed to say. She needed to explain to Brenda why they hadn't spoken in the last three weeks, why Brenda was never going to see her again, why she hadn't been able to apologize to Jack, why she wasn't able to leave him, why she'd been so sick lately. She'd known she was pregnant that first morning, when she'd vaulted out of Brenda Leigh's bed to empty her stomach in the toilet, and then promptly found herself craving pickles as soon as she was done. This pregnancy felt exactly like the two that had come before it, except for the fear that had taken up root in her heart. She was so afraid, afraid that she wouldn't be able to fix her marriage, that she wouldn't be able to look at this child without thinking of Brenda Leigh, and what she'd done to Jack. It was obviously Jack's baby, as much as her other sons were, but she'd been fucking Brenda Leigh, too, and she couldn't help but think this child would always stand as a reminder of her mistakes.

She shook her head and sighed, trying to clear the thoughts away as she clambered out of her car and made contact with the sidewalk. She would go to Brenda. She would tell her that she was leaving, she would turn around, and she would go home. She would fall asleep next to her husband, and she would not dream of slender hands and dark brown eyes. She would be happy.

Even if it killed her, she would be happy without Brenda Leigh Johnson.

Sharon made her way up the front door of the building, pressing the buzzer next to Brenda's apartment number and waiting to hear that familiar southern drawl come through the speaker. When it did finally come, Sharon nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hello?"

Sharon's finger actually shook as she reached out and pressed the intercom button, her voice sounding unnaturally high as she responded, "Brenda, it's me."

There was a long silence, and Sharon shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe Brenda had had enough. Three weeks was a long time to avoid someone, and Brenda Leigh wasn't an idiot. She had to know that Sharon had specifically requested they not work together anymore.

Finally the door buzzed as it unlocked. Brenda was inviting Sharon up, giving her another chance.

Sharon fought down a wave of nausea and made her way up the familiar flight of stairs, heading for the second floor and whatever awaited her inside Brenda's home.

The door opened before Sharon had the chance to knock, Brenda Leigh standing on the other side of it in nothing but an oversized white t-shirt, looking sleepy and utterly adorable, and Sharon's words failed her. Brenda was so lovely, so young and vibrant, so full of promise, and Sharon felt that she didn't deserve to stand in Brenda's light.

"I didn't think you were gonna come by anymore," Brenda said, leaning against the door frame, not letting Sharon past her. "I don't know _why,"_ she continued, watching Sharon the way she watched a terrorist or a snitch, looking for an in, for a confession. "Since you decided to just stop speaking to me altogether-"

Sharon cut her off, closing the space between them and silencing Brenda Leigh with her lips and tongue. The little blonde gave up without a fight, wrapping her arms tightly around Sharon's neck, tangling her fingers in short, auburn hair and dragging Sharon inside.

_This was not the plan, Sharon! _she admonished herself silently, but she couldn't stop kissing Brenda, couldn't pull herself away. She knew she would leave after this, that she would actually never see Brenda again, that this was her last chance. She tried to pour everything into this kiss, all the things she felt for Brenda, all the times she'd wanted to kiss her before and hadn't, all the times she'd want to kiss her in the future and wouldn't be able to. She kissed Brenda like she'd never kissed anyone before, and like she never would again.

"Please don't go away again," Brenda whispered against her lips, hands splaying possessively across Sharon's hips, and Sharon couldn't answer her, couldn't lie but also couldn't bring herself to break Brenda's heart right now.

So she didn't speak. She simply hummed and pressed every inch of herself against Brenda, hoping to forget, for however brief a time, just how badly she had fucked this up.

Brenda whimpered under the combined assault of Sharon's tongue and her hands slipping up underneath that too-big shirt, finding bare breasts and taking hold of them, as though Brenda's flesh were the only thing keeping Sharon's feet on the ground.

"Please," Brenda whispered and Sharon trembled, remembering her own voice saying that word less than an hour before, begging her husband for the chance to do this one more time before she left.

Sharon couldn't speak; she simply took Brenda by the hand and they walked side-by-side, silently, towards Brenda's bedroom. There was a feeling of anxious tension in the air, as though Brenda could sense what Sharon was trying to do, and the little blonde's slender fingers gripped Sharon's hand almost painfully tight. _She's going to have to let go eventually,_ Sharon thought, and the very idea of it brought tears to her eyes. She struggled to hold them back, determined to focus on fucking Brenda and nothing else tonight. She would not think of the time they'd spent together. She would not think of how Brenda had saved her life during that hellacious mission to Afghanistan. She would not think of the afternoon coffee dates in St. Petersburg. She would not think of the late dinners and the early breakfasts and the thousands of hours spent in close proximity. She would not think of how she had depended on this woman for everything for the last three years. She would think only of the sex, and when that was done she would think only of her husband and she would leave. She wasn't sure she could live with herself any other way.

Brenda threw herself down on the bed, hands reaching for Sharon's hips and pulling the older woman down on top of her. Ordinarily Sharon would have grinned and called her _cheeky_, but she couldn't take the time to stop now. She couldn't laugh at how adorable Brenda was, couldn't kiss the tip of her nose and cuddle and talk about nothing all night long. She needed this to be fast, and she needed to get out of here.

The t-shirt came off without a struggle and Sharon stood up quickly, shucking her clothes with lightning speed. She wanted to be naked, she wanted to feel Brenda's skin against her, the warmth of that body beneath her own, but she couldn't let Brenda undress her, couldn't watch the tenderness play out across her lover's face. She felt like screaming, she felt like crying, she felt like she was coming apart at the seams.

_Los Angeles._

LA was the other side of the country. LA was a huge city, bigger than DC, full of people Sharon didn't know. LA was a place where Jack had a chance to work with a surveying company that would keep him in an office building instead of outside. LA was a place where Sharon had an offer to work with LAPD's Internal Affairs division, an offer that they had agreed to extend so she could take her maternity leave. LA was a place where Jack and Sharon could fix themselves, and a place where Sharon would die, bit by bit, as she sacrificed herself for the people she loved. Sharon _loved _working with the CIA, loved the danger and the feeling of accomplishment and Brenda Leigh…

Jesus, she loved Brenda Leigh.

She couldn't keep thinking like this. As soon as she was naked she launched herself at Brenda, mouth taking up residence on the little blonde's pulse point, sucking hard.

"Be careful, Sharon," Brenda gasped, her hands dancing down Sharon's spine, lighting up the auburn-haired beauty draped across her. "Don't leave a mark," she said, but it was too late. Sharon's lips and teeth were scoring Brenda's skin, leaving a sizeable hickey that Brenda would have a hard time covering up at work tomorrow. And Sharon wouldn't be there to smirk when people stared as Brenda walked past. Brenda's hands drifted down to Sharon's ass, giving the firm flesh there a none-too-gentle squeeze in retaliation and this only spurred Sharon on.

Not wasting any time, Sharon slipped her tongue into Brenda's mouth and sent her hands traveling down Brenda's body, one fingernail tracing a teasing circle around Brenda's nipple while the other hand searched through springy curls for the hard nub of Brenda's clit, fingers playing in the wetness gathering at Brenda's center.

"Slow down," Brenda murmured against Sharon's neck, trying to control the other woman's movements, but Sharon was having none of it. She felt nearly frantic, desperately trying to get through this so she could outside and cry in her car before she drove home to her husband and her children and the rest of her life without Brenda Leigh. Somewhere between the front door and Brenda's bed Sharon had decided not to tell the little blonde that she was going away. She had the feeling that Brenda knew that already.

Sharon captured Brenda's hands in her own, pinning them to the mattress by the blonde's head, fitting her body carefully over Brenda's so that their breasts pressed together, the heat of their centers mingling into a single passion that left them both gasping, writhing against each other.

"Please," Brenda said, her voice sounding almost harsh in its breathlessness, "Wanna touch you, baby. Wanna see you."

Sharon wouldn't give in, however. She ground down against Brenda until they were moaning into each other's mouths, and then coming together, wave after wave of sensation breaking down the walls Sharon had tried to throw up until she was collapsed against Brenda, shaking and crying silent, salty tears into Brenda's neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly, and Brenda just ran a smoothing hand over her hair, wrapping her up in a tight embrace, pulling the covers up and over the both of them.

"Go to sleep now," Brenda said, holding Sharon's body next to her own, and Sharon drifted off, peaceful, if only for the moment.

···

Sharon held herself perfectly still, cradling the sleeping body of her lover close, determined not to wake the little blonde in her arms, and equally determined not to cry. It was for the best, she had decided, and she was going to have to live with the consequences of her choices.

This wasn't how she had planned for this night to end; she should be at home, in bed with her husband, and yet she wasn't. Jack was probably furious. He might forgive her one last time, especially considering she had agreed to the move. She might have ended up in Brenda Leigh's bed yet again, but she had chosen to follow him to Los Angeles, and not to tell Brenda Leigh.

Sharon sighed gently and leaned forward, dropping a kiss on the smooth skin of Brenda's shoulder. It was harder than she had expected, saying good-bye, and she'd made it that much harder by not telling Brenda that that was what she was doing. She'd come over here tonight full of noble intentions, prepared for tears and even anger from her tempestuous lover, but she had found herself unable to speak the words. Brenda had been lovely, as always. Brenda had long ago stopped trying to charm Sharon, and in the process had become even more attractive to the brunette. However brief their time together might have been, she had seen the real Brenda Leigh, and she would treasure those memories.

She steeled herself and slipped soundlessly from the bed, placing a fortifying hand on her roiling stomach. This was something else she had not told Brenda Leigh, another secret she was carrying with her to the other side of the country. She was overcome with doubt; she had loved her husband once and a part of her loved him still, but the cross-country move and the new baby churning in her belly did not hold the promise of bringing them back together.

She pulled her clothes on quietly, eyes locked on the shock of yellow hair falling across the pillow. Sharon did not humor herself with thoughts of how devastated Brenda Leigh would be when she discovered that Sharon was gone. Brenda would be angry, probably, and put out like a small child who has lost their favorite toy, but she was resilient. She would find a new plaything, and Sharon would be thousands of miles away, caring for her husband and her two- now three- children. Sharon would do the right thing and try her damndest to forget her time with this woman, pulling the memories out every once in a while like a favorite book, replaying them in her mind with a sad smile on her face and putting them back on the shelf when she was done.

Brenda stirred slightly, rolling onto her back and reaching out with a slender arm to find the body that was no longer there beside her. Sharon took her leave then, slipping silently through the bedroom door before Brenda's eyes opened.

She reached the front door of the little apartment, her hand on the knob when she heard that familiar drawl calling softly, "Sharon?"

For a moment she almost turned around, almost ran back to Brenda's arms. She could throw herself down on the bed and weep and Brenda would smooth her hair and talk her into staying. She took a shuddering breath and opened the door, disappearing out into the night, tears streaming down her face.

···

"Sharon?" Brenda called again, but she knew her lover was gone. The bed was still warm from where Sharon had been lying next to her, and Brenda rolled over into that warmth, dragging the blanket up to her chin, covering her nakedness from the pre-dawn darkness. She couldn't shake the feeling that Sharon had left her, really, truly left her, not just for the night but for the rest of her life, and she felt the prick of tears. Sharon had cried that night, and Brenda had held her close and comforted her. Brenda was offered no such comfort now. She was alone in a bed that suddenly seemed much too big, much too empty.

What would she possibly do without Sharon? The last three weeks had been hard enough, working without Sharon but with the knowledge that the auburn haired woman was just down the hallway. Brenda wasn't sure why she hadn't gone to Sharon herself; she could have apologized, could have fixed this. Maybe if Brenda hadn't left Sharon alone this never would have happened. Maybe Sharon had left because she thought Brenda didn't love her.

And damn it all to hell, but Brenda loved her.

For one crazy moment Brenda thought about jumping in her car and chasing after Sharon, showing up at her house and throwing herself at Sharon's feet, proclaiming her love and devotion and begging Sharon to come back here. Except that Sharon's house also meant Sharon's husband and Sharon's two sons, and the men in Sharon's life were so much easier to ignore when Brenda didn't know what they looked like. Sharon had never shown her pictures, had never even told Brenda her sons' names. That life was kept completely separate, but then they worked at the CIA. Everyone there lived double lives. This compartmentalization had come to them as easy as breathing.

Except now Sharon was gone. Why? What had changed? Brenda's mind raced, going over the events of the night before, searching for something, anything to tell her why, but she just kept coming up empty.

The darkness felt heavy as a stone on Brenda's chest. She couldn't call Sharon, couldn't run to her house. Couldn't do anything but wait for the dawn, drive into work and stand outside Sharon's office until she came in.

Except there was this nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her no matter how long she waited in Sharon's office, she was never going to see her lover again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Atlanta, May 2001**

Brenda moved down the aisle at a stately pace, a smile plastered on her face beneath the thin lace of her veil, only her fingernails digging into her father's arm through his suit jacket giving any indication of her reticence. She couldn't believe she was about to do this. Her friends couldn't believe she was about to do this. Her parents _really_ couldn't believe she was about to do this; she'd had the same conversation with both of them at different times earlier this morning. _Yes, Mama, I do want to get married. Yes, Daddy, Daniel is a good man. _

He was waiting for her at the end of the aisle, smiling brightly, and she tried to latch onto that smile. To let some of his confidence transfer to her. He was the one who'd gotten her into this mess, mostly because _he_ was the one who asked _her_, but if Daniel thought they would be good together, surely they would be. Wouldn't they?

At the heart of it, she _did_ want to be married. She was thirty-four, turning thirty-five in just a few weeks, and it was high time she grew up and admitted that she wasn't the most important person in the world. _People need people, _Mama was always saying, and Brenda Leigh was people, too, even if nine years at the CIA had called her own humanity into question. She couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life entirely alone, and if she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life with Daniel, either, well, she'd give it some time. She was almost certain that she would get used to having another person in her home, in her bed, every day for the rest of forever.

And it would be nice to come back to Atlanta a married woman. The move would be official by the end of this year; she was leaving DC's police department behind for a promotion in Atlanta. She'd live closer to her parents, maybe she'd have children (she actually shuddered when that thought crossed her mind and her father looked at her oddly out of the corner of his eye as though he feared she was having some sort of episode) and she'd finally get one of those lives people were always talking about.

The problem, she realized as she reached Daniel at the far end of the church, was that she wasn't interested in having one of those lives people were always talking about. Her father lifted her veil and kissed her on the cheek before dropping it back in place, and she reached out and took Daniel's hand just like they'd rehearsed.

She was interested in having someone take care of her, she was interested in not feeling alone all the time, she was interested in the idea that maybe she could open herself up to another person, but she also couldn't shake the notion that maybe she had already had that opportunity, and she'd screwed it up royally. She tried to focus on the preacher's words, on the feel of Daniel's hand in her own, but she couldn't. She tried to keep her mind away from an auburn haired woman she'd lost long ago, but in the process her mind lighted on a much more recent, and much more unpleasant, memory.

"_You can't seriously be considering this," Will said, stretching languidly on her bed and toying with the little diamond ring on her finger. Brenda snatched her hand away._

"_Why shouldn't I? Because you're going to leave your wife and we can finally be together?" her tone was biting, cruel, but then Will had been cruel, too. Will had been promising her things for years, and had never delivered. He had been irate when she first started seeing Daniel, but as she'd pointed out, he didn't really have much room to talk. Pot calling the kettle black and all. _

"_You don't love him," Will said, not a question or an accusation, but a statement of fact. _

"_Honestly, Will, at this point, I'm not sure anybody loves anybody anymore. You're supposed to love your wife, but here you are with me. And if you loved me, you wouldn't stay with your wife. We see this every day, people killing people, not for love, but for sex, for money, for drugs. No one loves anyone but themselves. And I think Daniel will be good for me."_

_He stared at her, his shockingly blue eyes so sad as they took in her form. "Who screwed you up so bad, Brenda Leigh?" he asked, reaching out to gently touch her face, but Brenda pulled away._

"_You," she said with a forced little smile, sliding out of the bed and into the robe she left hanging by the door. The truth was Will hadn't damaged anything that wasn't already broken. Sharon had left her in pieces, and no one, not Will or Daniel or Brenda herself could put her back together. _

The preacher had asked her a question, she just _knew_ he had, and Daniel was looking at her expectantly. She took a deep breath.

"I do," she said.

**Los Angeles, May 2001**

"Please don't do this," Sharon said, but even she could hear how deflated she sounded. She'd already given up, and this posturing, this trying to keep him here, it was all for show. Jack was leaving, and there was nothing anyone could do about it anymore.

He didn't answer her, he just kept right on shoving clothes into his bag, staring resolutely at nothing.

This wasn't how this weekend was supposed to end. They'd sent the kids to Sharon's parents for a few days so they could be alone together, so they could talk. Just as Sharon had always feared, the move to Los Angeles had really only served to push them further apart. Her job with LAPD's internal affairs was not a regular nine-to-five desk job; she was gone all hours of the day and night, and though she had risen from Sergeant to Lieutenant in record time and there were rumblings of her being made Captain at some point in the near future, her success had only meant more time away from her family. And though she pretended otherwise, she had been grateful for that time away. Jack was growing angrier and angrier as the days went by, and her sons needed her less now than they had when they were smaller. And Lily, her precious Lily, the baby who had prompted this move in the first place, her golden blonde hair drove her father absolutely crazy. It was insane, it was madness, to think that the fact that Sharon had been fucking a blonde woman when she got pregnant might have had some impact on their child's hair color, but Jack hadn't been particularly sane lately.

Lately, every time Sharon walked through the door it was to find Jack sitting in his chair, beer in hand, scowl on his face. He _never_ used to drink, but he hadn't made many new friends in LA and work hadn't been as easy to come by as he thought it would be. He'd lost the job he came here to take within the first year, and nothing really stuck after that. He missed Virginia, he missed his parents, he missed the way Sharon used to be. He was always commenting on her clothes now, asking why she dressed like such an uptight bitch. He was always commenting on her comings and goings now, asking where she'd been and with whom and never believing the answers she gave him. Sharon didn't recognize this man. He was not her Jack, not the sweet man who used to hold her hand in the car and roll around on the floor with their children, not the man who used to send her flowers at work for no reason, not the man who always used to make her smile.

Their last argument rang in her ears-

"_I'm not going to uproot my life, our children's lives, again, just because you haven't put in enough of an effort-"_

"_Enough of an effort?" he erupted. "You think I haven't been trying, Sharon? I've been trying every day, trying to trust you, trying to be good to these kids, trying to like this fucking city," he never swore, not her Jack, who was always so kind, so good, "but it isn't working. We aren't working."_

"_You still don't trust me?" she asked brokenly. He hadn't said the words out loud before now. She supposed that's what their problem was at its heart, but to hear him say it, to him proclaim so matter-of-factly that he didn't trust her, it tore her up inside. It had been four years since Brenda Leigh, and the thought that Jack had never gotten over what she'd done to him made Sharon want to sit down and weep for her own foolishness._

"_Are you kidding?" his tone was spiteful, derisive. "Every time you walk through that door I wonder if it's your perfume I'm smelling or some other woman's. I wonder what goes through your mind every time we walk by a pretty girl. I wonder if I'm ever going to be enough for you."_

"_Jack," she started to say, her voice shaking with the tears she was trying so hard not to cry, "Baby-"_

"_Don't do that," he said, turning away and reaching for his bag. "I can't do this anymore Sharon. I'm going to a hotel and I'm going to call a lawyer."_

He hadn't spoken another word after that and now his bag was packed. He was ready to go. Ready to walk out on her, on their children, on the life they'd built. Jack headed for the door and Sharon let the tears begin to fall, chasing after him on unsteady legs.

"What about the kids?" she cried, reaching out for his hand. When he snatched his hand out of her reach she recoiled as if he'd slapped her.

"I don't know what we'll do about the kids," he admitted, his hand on the door handle. "But I do know that I can't stay here, with you, for another second. I'll see you around, Sharon."

He threw the door open and disappeared out into the gathering darkness beyond, leaving Sharon well and truly alone for the first time in nineteen years. She sat down in the foyer of their suddenly empty house, buried her face in her hands, and wept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Los Angeles, June 2005**

**Sharon **

Sharon stretched languidly, naked against the softness of her sheets. She rarely allowed herself the pleasure of sleeping naked; with three children in the house it always seemed like playing Russian roulette with a loaded gun, and Sharon didn't like to take the risk. Tonight, however, all three of the kids were gone; Garrett was out with friends, and Ethan and Lily were both away at sleepovers. She hadn't planned on seeing Andy tonight, and the call he'd made earlier in the evening to tell her that he'd caught a case had only confirmed that she would be spending the night alone. That thought had made her almost deliriously happy. She'd taken a long bath and settled on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book, but she found that the wine only made her tired, and the book only made her sad. She put them both aside and slid into bed, hoping that sleep would claim her quickly and that she wouldn't wake again until the morning when she actually had something to do. Sharon found that after eighteen years of motherhood she wasn't very good at doing nothing.

She had very nearly fallen asleep when the sound of the lock turning on the front door broke through the silence. The clock on her bedside cheerily proclaimed the time to be just after 11, too early for Garrett- who was 18 and whose curfew was set for 1 am- to be coming home. Only one person outside the family had a key to her home, and she found herself grateful for the change of plans. A night alone had turned out to be less exciting than she imagined it would be, and the thought of sharing her bed with Andy was more welcome than it had been several hours before. She did not rise, opting instead to wait for him to come to her. She smiled when she thought about how he might react to finding her naked in her bed, waiting for him.

The bedroom door opened and there he was, his suit slightly wrinkled and his face set in the kind of expression that let her know he was pissed off about something. Whatever it was, she hoped he'd get over it quickly. Sharon had no interest in spending this night dealing with any more shit from the cops at Parker Center. She had long since grown used to the distrust from her fellow officers, but she remained grateful for Andy's friendship. Even on the days when she was convinced everyone in the world hated her guts, Andy Flynn was there with a kind word and a shoulder to lean on.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting up and not bothering to draw the blanket over her nakedness. Let him look; he might forget whatever had pissed him off.

"Hey," he answered her, shucking off his suit jacket and tugging his tie over his head.

"Didn't think I was going to see you tonight," she said, running her fingers through her thick hair. She'd let it grow out in the years she'd been here in LA, and she knew Andy loved it like this, long and loose and just a touch messy.

"Neither did I," he told her, and though his tone indicated that he was still upset, his face had softened at the sight of her. He stumbled slightly as he tried to remove his pants and shoes at the same time, and they laughed together. Once he was down to just his boxers he slid into bed beside her and she went to him immediately, draping her body over his and resting her head on his chest so she could hear the comforting thrum of his heartbeat.

"What happened?" she asked, and she felt his muscles tense reflexively around her.

"What else?" he answered in a tone dripping with disdain. "Miss Atlanta."

Sharon sighed and turned her head slightly, dropping a kiss on his chest. She had heard nothing but complaints about the new Deputy Chief for the last two weeks. She was an outsider, she was rude, she didn't know the first damn thing about running a department. Sharon had not yet had the pleasure of meeting the woman, and she was glad of that fact, though she imagined that it was only a matter of time.

"What did she do this time?" Sharon asked, trying to disguise her yawn. She was mildly curious, and she had the feeling that if she didn't ask, Andy would simply fume over it for the rest of the night, and that man thought louder than anyone else she had ever met.

"She sent me away," he said bitterly. "Busted into the middle of _my_ investigation with her holier-than-thou bullshit, stopped a perfectly valid search and sent me home like a god damn child."

Sharon sighed and tilted her chin up so she could see his face. "Don't worry about it, baby," she said. "This woman may be teacher's pet for now, but Pope's not an idiot. He'll see that an outsider can't just walk in here like she owns the place. Once all the noise over the evidence tampering dies down, he'll put Taylor back in charge."

"Maybe," Andy said, "But in the mean time I'm stuck with Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh."

Sharon's whole body went tense, strung taut as a bow, her heart beating so fast she felt as though it might burst out of her chest. _Brenda Leigh…_ what were the chances? She forced herself to relax, hoping Andy hadn't sensed the fear that washed over her now.

"What was her name?" she asked, shocked by how even her voice sounded.

"Brenda Leigh Johnson," Andy said, mocking the familiar southern drawl that Sharon remembered so well from all those years before.

Sharon knew she was shaking now, and she only hoped she could blame it on being cold. _Brenda Leigh…_ all Sharon could see was long blonde hair and slender hands and big dark eyes watching her sadly, all she could think about was the sound of Brenda's voice calling out her name the night she left. _Brenda Leigh…_ it must have been Pope's doing. Old friends from the agency had gossiped to Sharon about Brenda's disastrous affair with the man back in D.C. Sharon had not met Pope then and had not taken the time to tell him that she knew of him from before. That they shared the unique bond of having fucked the same woman. Sharon had no doubt that Brenda Leigh had fallen into Will Pope's bed immediately after Sharon's abrupt departure from the agency; in true Brenda style she had rushed right into the arms of another married lover. And now she had followed him here. Those same friends had told Sharon of Brenda's marriage, and she couldn't help but wonder if the mysterious husband was here as well. Having Brenda in the city would be intolerable enough, having her in the same department would be torture. Seeing her every day, happy, with a gold band on her hand where Sharon's own was bare would be more than she could bear. LA had become Sharon's safe haven, an escape from her old life, a place where no one knew who she'd been or what she'd done. And now? Now Brenda was here, and the life Sharon had carefully constructed for herself was about to come crumbling down.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, and she shrugged, offering her face up for a kiss.

"Just thinking about you. You should be Deputy Chief," she lied and he laughed as he leaned down to capture her lips in a slow, familiar kiss.

"No, thank you," he said, his hand drifting down the slope of Sharon's back, coming to rest on the swell of her ass, squeezing gently. "I'm happy here," he added, and she knew he meant more than just Robbery Homicide. He was happy here with her, and Brenda Leigh could go to hell because Sharon was happy here with him, too. She kissed him harder, hooking a leg over his hip and losing herself in the warmth of his touch.

Yes, she decided, Brenda Leigh could go to hell.

**Brenda**

She flopped on the bed in her hotel room, ding-dong in hand and a smile on her face. She'd closed her first case, and the rest of them could all go to hell, because she'd done it. Brenda had proven to them that she could do this job, and she had proven to herself that she deserved to be here. She tried to lose herself in the chocolate, but found that she couldn't stop replaying the events of the last few days in her mind.

Brenda was trying to like this city, she really was. She hated having to rely on Gabriel to drive her around, she hated living in a hotel, she hated having to constantly remind everyone that she went first, she hated having to rely on Pope to uphold her authority, and she really, _really_ hated how out of place she felt here. She would try to make the best of it, however; she'd gotten divorced and sold her house and moved to the other side of the country, and it was far too late to go back. She'd made her choice, and now she'd have to live with it.

This investigation had proven to her that she was going to be all right, but it had also turned out to be more than she was expecting to deal with on her first case in LA. Discovering Ellen's secret had brought up some unsettling memories, of her time spent with Sharon and all the questions that had filled her when she found herself attracted to a woman. She could still hear Provenza's voice in her head; _are you saying she's a murderer _and _a lesbo?_ She'd found herself filled with a kind of righteous anger in that moment, but had tried to hold it back, threatening him with sensitivity training but trying not to let her own feelings show. She shook her head in hopes of stopping this train of thought. Sharon had been gone for almost eight years, and there was no need to focus on her now. Even if there were still some nights when Brenda missed the warmth of Sharon beside her, missed the softness of her hands and the tenderness of her voice. Missed the way she felt when she had someone who understood her, truly, every part of her. No one had taken hold of her the way Sharon had, no one had made a mark on her soul like the one that Sharon's love had left.

And she had no idea where Sharon had gone. Of course, she hadn't tried particularly hard to find her; Brenda had come into work the day after Sharon left only to hear that the woman had quit, and by the time Brenda had worked up the nerve (or perhaps had simply become desperate enough) to drive by Sharon's home, she found it empty, cars gone from the drive, toys gone from the front yard, windows black and cold. The pain of losing Sharon this way had almost been more than Brenda could stand; the thought that Sharon cared so little for her that she had come to Brenda for one last fuck before disappearing forever had left the little blonde reeling. She had come to hate Sharon in a way after that, and thoughts of tracking her down lost out against that hatred. Why should she try to find the woman who had used her and thrown her away? Why waste her time on someone who clearly didn't care enough to even say good-bye?

Even if Sharon haunted her still. It was Sharon, more than anything else, that ruined Brenda's marriage, almost before it had even begun. It was losing Sharon that had thrown Brenda into Will Pope's arms. She had been so lost, so in need of someone to tell her that she deserved better, and Will Pope had filled that role admirably. And then of course it had been realizing that she had no future with Pope that had sent her bouncing on to Daniel.

God, what a mistake that had been.

She had been foolish enough to trust him, to think that they could stay together. And in the first year of their marriage when she felt safe and thought that maybe, just maybe, he actually loved her, she had told him about Sharon. That had been the wrong move; he'd never looked at her the same way after that, and he never, ever, let her forget what she'd told him. He watched her interactions with every single female member of her squad as though he feared that she was fucking them all in her office during business hours. He complained bitterly, constantly, about the hours she had to work, and in the end, he had grown to hate her in a way. The shouting wasn't the worst part; the worst part was the quiet insults, the knowledge that even in peaceful moments when they had nothing to disagree about he was still cruel to her. She had tried, really tried, to keep it together, not because she wanted to stay with _him_ but because she wanted to stay _married_. She wanted it for her parents' sake. She wanted it for her own sake, wanted the knowledge that she was not unlovable, but in the end, she had been unable to stand it. The ethics inquiry had been too much; all brought on by Daniel, making wild accusations. The fact that he had done that, jeopardized her career and her reputation on nothing but a petty whim, had not surprised her. What had surprised her was that he had chosen a male officer in her squad, and not one of the women. She thought he would have taken extra pleasure in that, in outing her.

He hadn't, though.

So she divorced him and accepted Will's offer to move out here. The job she'd been offered at Homeland Security might have been more her speed, but she was tired of the East Coast, she was tired of terrorists, and she was ready for a change. Perhaps it was naïve, to think that moving across the country would solve all her problems, but she had done it, and that was that.

And damn Sharon Raydor, because in the end this all traced back to her. If Sharon had never left, if Brenda had never had an affair with Pope, if Brenda had never married Daniel… the ifs swirled around her mind, killing the euphoria that chocolate usually gave her and leaving her feeling bitter and drained. Damn Sharon Raydor.

_Stop it,_ she chided herself, rolling over on the bed as though Sharon were actually there, as though she could turn her back on the auburn haired woman. Her mind traveled back to Provenza, and to the rest of her squad. For the most part they seemed to be on her side, though she worried about Andy Flynn. He might have offered some grudging respect after her success in this case, but he was dangerous. He was too well-connected, too smart, and too distrusting of her to be discounted as a threat. Flynn wanted her gone, that much was certain. He was loyal to Taylor, and Taylor viewed Brenda's very presence in the department as a personal affront.

These men! It was always men in these places, always puffed up assholes in cheap suits telling her what to do, expecting her to be submissive and quiet and responding vindictively when they found her otherwise. Flynn rubbed her the wrong way, but evidently the feeling was mutual. Brenda wondered how far he might go; he wasn't a member of her department, but Robbery Homicide and the Priority Murder Squad would almost certainly be crossing paths again, and she knew she couldn't count on his cooperation.

Andy Flynn. What a horrible man.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: the beginning of this chapter takes place during the season two episode _Serving the King_, so if you haven't seen it either watch it or IMDB that shit so you know who Andrew is. Special thanks goes to Babs, for beta-ing and for assisting me with her Air Force Training and knowledge of military protocol. **

**···**

**Los Angeles, December 2006**

It has been a year and a half, almost exactly, since Sharon learned of Brenda's arrival in LA, and there are some days when she doesn't even think of the little blonde sitting in her office four floors above Sharon's own. This, however, was not going to be one of those days, because from the moment Sharon woke up she had the feeling that something awful was going to happen, and she couldn't help but think that Brenda Leigh will be responsible for it.

Brenda Leigh had already managed to ruin Sharon's relationship with Andy, and it is this fact that Sharon focused on as she rose, much earlier than she would like to, shambling into her shower desperate to feel the hot water. Things had been fine before Brenda Leigh arrived, and even for a while after, but their precarious happiness had not lasted long. The more time Andy spent with Brenda the more he seemed to admire her; Sharon watched it, watched him soften in regards to his new boss, watched him slowly but surely turning on Taylor. There was nothing she could do to stop it, and before she knew it Andy had been completely suckered in by Brenda Leigh's charm, and Sharon had to actively try not to yell at him for it, not to tell him everything she knew of the Deputy Chief. There were some days she wanted to scream it, scream until she was blue in the face and everyone understood what Brenda had meant to her, what she had meant to Brenda, what they had done to each other.

But she didn't. She just watched Andy slip slowly away, spending more and more time at work, becoming more and more put out with Sharon's position in Internal Affairs, until finally neither of them could stand to be in the other's presence any longer. They avoided each other now, and Sharon's kids never asked about him any more.

She was wondering about him this morning, though, wondering about how he was doing back in Robbery Homicide, wondering how Brenda Leigh was doing with her administrative leave. Originally Pope wanted Sharon to run that investigation herself, but she could imagine no fate worse than having to investigate Brenda's squad, to be the person responsible for taking Brenda away from her job and calling her capabilities into question. Of course Pope had demanded a reason, and, desperate to find a good excuse and get the hell out of the whole mess, Sharon had done the unthinkable. She had disclosed her prior relationship with Andy Flynn and told Pope that she didn't think she could be objective.

The look on Pope's face when she spoke those words was very nearly worth it; evidently the Assistant Chief didn't think she had it in her. She worried in the beginning that her revelation might adversely affect her career, but there was talk of a new division being created within Internal Affairs, and Sharon knew her name was on the list of possible candidates to run it. The promotion would result in Sharon being named Captain, and that prospect was exciting. She would have her own squad, and she would answer to no one. But she would also only be investigating the use of force by LAPD officers, and she knew that no job in the department could make her more hated than that one.

Sharon shuffled out of her shower and got ready to face her day, dressing quietly before waking up her two youngest children and starting the coffee maker. Garrett was off at college, his freshman year, and she found the house oddly quiet without her oldest son. Much cleaner, too, without his clothes everywhere, football cleats and sneakers and dirty socks piled up in the corner by the front door. Sometimes when she was cleaning the house she still went to pick them up, and found herself suddenly, inexplicably sad when she found the corner neat and tidy, not a uniform or dirty towel in sight.

She took Ethan and Lily to school, watching her children rushing out of the car, as far away from her as they could get, off to see their friends and start their day and leaving Sharon, once again, very much alone.

The rest of her drive was quiet, as peaceful as cruising through 9am traffic in LA could be. Sharon parked and walked up to her office, armed with her coffee mug and a scowl, hoping no one would try to speak to her this morning. Whatever disaster was looming over her head, she was going to try to hide from it for as long as she could.

Which turned out to be not very long at all, for the moment Sharon stepped onto the elevator she found herself face to face with someone she had not seen in a very long time, someone she thought she would never see again.

"Andrew!" she said, shocked, wondering if protocol in this situation called for a hug or a handshake or if she should simply keep a reserved distance.

"Sharon Raydor," he said, his voice soft and slow as always, though his eyes twinkled with his surprise. He did look awful; she had heard a while back that he was dying, that he had lost his touch, that the Agency was ready to let him go. Seeing him in person for the first time in nearly ten years, Sharon had no problem believing it. For some reason it made her sad to see this man who had once been so great laid so low. She wondered if he felt the same thing when he saw her.

"What on earth are you doing here?" he asked, stepping aside to give her room on the elevator next to him.

"Working," she said with a shrug. "Trying to stay out of trouble. What about you?"

He smiled tightly. "I fear I am here to do the exact opposite. I believe I might be stirring up quite a bit of trouble." He studied her carefully and she noted that his steely gaze was still the same. She still had the feeling he could read her like a book, and she knew his mind well enough for that prospect to scare her. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Did you know our Brenda Leigh is working here as well?" Andrew asked shrewdly, and the words cut through Sharon like a knife. _Our Brenda Leigh._ They had often referred to the little blonde that way in the beginning; Andrew and Sharon were the ones who had trained Brenda, who had helped her find her place in the CIA, and they had watched like proud parents as she became one of the best interrogators the Agency had seen in some time.

Sharon stared straight ahead, determined not to catch his eye.

"I did know that, yes."

Andrew nodded. "I wonder if she knows that you're here," he said, and Sharon sighed, running her fingers through her hair. He had seen it, somehow, had realized that Sharon had not gone to Brenda, that their protégé had no idea her mentor was in Los Angeles, let alone in the same building. It was a miracle they hadn't bumped into each other at some point, but the Parker Center building was large, and Sharon usually took the stairs to avoiding running into people. She was beginning to wish she had taken the stairs this morning; as nice as it was to see Andrew again, the direction this conversation had taken had made her uncomfortable.

"Do you know," Andrew said, watching her carefully, "I saw Brenda Leigh the morning you left. She was standing outside your office, and when I asked her what she was doing, she very nearly started to cry. She told me she was waiting for you to come home."

Sharon caught her bottom lip between her teeth, determined not to say anything. She didn't trust herself to speak.

"I'm sure she meant to say that she was waiting for you to come back," Andrew continued. The elevator dinged on Sharon's floor and the doors slid open; Andrew caught her by the sleeve as she tried to slip past him. "I have never in my life seen anything quite so sad as Brenda Leigh Johnson unable to control her own tongue. I hope you'll go to her, Sharon. And soon."

He let go of her and let the door slide closed between them, leaving Sharon alone. Her feet turned on autopilot, carrying her towards her office without her consent as she struggled to keep herself together.

_I'm waiting for Sharon to come home…_ She could almost hear Brenda's voice in her mind, and the thought of it tore at her, disturbing all the broken pieces of her heart and making her feel the wrong she had done more keenly than she had in years. She had taken Brenda Leigh, every part of her, and given the woman nothing in return. She had run when she should have stayed, and there could be no forgiveness for what she had done. For a moment she briefly considered running up the four flights of stairs separating her from the Priority Murder Squad but that notion disappeared as quickly as it came when Sharon remembered that Brenda was gone, her squad dismembered and scattered.

The office loomed before her and Sharon ducked inside, throwing herself behind the desk and burying her head in her hands.

_Not today, please, God, not today, _she thought, but she couldn't stop herself, couldn't keep the memories from washing over her as the wintry sunlight filtered in through the cracks in the blinds.

_September 1996, somewhere in Afghanistan _

The mission hadn't gone quite as planned. They had found the woman they were looking for, but she had been skittish, afraid to talk to the Americans. She was the sister of a prominent leader in the resistance, and her gender had enabled her to slip through the man's house unnoticed, and given her access to the kind of information that Sharon and Brenda could use to stop the next attack before it ever happened. This woman was the reason they were in Afghanistan in the first place; they'd spent weeks analyzing intel and creating inroads in the community. They'd been there for so long that Brenda was even beginning to pick up a few words in Dari, and Sharon was absurdly proud of how well the little blonde had done.

This most recent interaction with their source had left Sharon more than a little put out, however, and she sat glumly in the front seat of the Humvee, not speaking as their convoy wound its way through the desert and back to the base. Brenda sensed her foul mood and did not try to engage her in conversation as she so often did, and the noise of six Humvees rolling down the makeshift road was the only sound to be heard.

Until the bomb went off. Theirs was the second vehicle in line, and as the one in front of them exploded in a burst of color and sound that sent their own Humvee careening wildly off on its side, shrapnel and bullets flying as a cloud of insurgents descended on them, Sharon only had a moment to reach out for Brenda's hand before they collided with the ground and Sharon lost consciousness.

She would learn what happened later; the first vehicle had struck an IED, and the force of the blast combined with the waiting ambush claimed the lives of everyone in it, as well as the driver of Sharon's Humvee. Brenda had grabbed Sharon by the shoulders and dragged her out of the smoldering wreckage of their vehicle and kept her hidden behind it as the soldiers streamed out of the convoy, trying to roust the enemy fighters. It was Brenda who kept Sharon alive in the chaos, and it was Brenda who refused to let the woman out of her sight until they were finally shepherded back to the safety of the base.

When Sharon finally awoke it was well after dark, and she found herself nestled in the sheets of her bunk, a sleepy-looking Brenda Leigh perched in a chair by her bed, lip caught alluring between her teeth.

"Hey," Brenda said, and she instinctively reached out to help Sharon as the dark-haired woman struggled to pull herself upright.

"How are you feeling?" Brenda asked, handing Sharon a glass of water before she even had a chance to ask for it.

"Surprisingly okay," Sharon answered, wincing as she rubbed a hand over the tender spot on her head.

"You don't have a concussion," Brenda supplied helpfully.

Sharon studied the face of the young woman leaning over her. She had noticed on more than one occasion just how lovely her partner was, but she couldn't recall a time she'd ever been quite this close to her before. Sharon fancied that through the dust and sweat that seemed to cover everyone here she could actually smell Brenda Leigh, the softness and light of the blonde who had saved her life. She couldn't say how she knew that it was Brenda, but in that moment she did. She knew it like she knew her name, knew that Brenda Leigh had taken the risk and protected her despite the danger, and she warmed all over at the thought.

"You saved me, didn't you?" Sharon asked softly, wanting to hear it, wanting justification, proof that her gut feeling was right, and the blush that spread over Brenda's cheeks was answer enough.

"Thank you," Sharon said, her voice choked with unshed tears, and Brenda reached out, brushing a lock of auburn hair from Sharon's face.

"There was no way I could leave you there," Brenda said, her voice so very low and sad, and Sharon felt it, all the fear she'd missed when she was unconscious. She pictured Brenda, hunkered down behind the burning wreck of the Humvee, her arms wrapped around Sharon as men died around them and guns lit up the afternoon air. She imagined what it must have felt like, waiting as the seconds dragged on and the fighting continued unabated. She shivered, a tear escaping her for what Brenda had gone through, for the guilt she felt at not having been there for this little woman who had come to mean everything to her over the last few weeks.

Brenda shifted, rising out of her chair to perch next to Sharon on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to drop a kiss on Sharon's cheek beside the salty trail her tears had left.

"Please don't cry," Brenda said quietly but Sharon just kept right on, pulling Brenda close. The blonde went willingly, allowing herself to be pressed tightly against Sharon's body. And even through her tears Sharon couldn't ignore the warmth of Brenda's skin against her own, or the way they seemed to fit together so well, even at this awkward angle.

Sharon's tears did eventually subside and then there was no reason for her to keep on holding on to Brenda Leigh, but neither of them made a move to separate. They remained together, their hearts beating faster but still somehow in time with one another until Sharon looked up into Brenda's eyes to find them shining with the same feeling that had begun to gather somewhere deep inside her.

They moved together then, Sharon's head tilting up as Brenda's tilted down and then their lips met, softly, tentatively, just brushing at first. Sharon's husband and children back home forgotten in the face of this opportunity to relieve the tension that had been building between them for months now. If her only motivation in kissing Brenda Leigh Johnson was the adrenaline from their brush with death earlier in the day it might have been easier for Sharon to pull away, to blame this on something else and go on with her life, but it wasn't. She'd wanted this for ages now, wanted to be close to Brenda, wanted to know what those lips might taste like under her own, and now that the chance presented itself she found herself reluctant to move away.

And more importantly Brenda was kissing her back, winding her fingers in short red hair and pulling Sharon headlong into the kind of passion each of them had always known could potentially exist between them. Brenda ran her tongue along Sharon's lips in question and Sharon shuddered with want, opening beneath the blonde and sliding her hands down to rest on Brenda's waist. Sharon, still sitting back against the headboard, maneuvered the blonde onto her lap, their tongues and lips never once breaking contact as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate.

"I almost lost you today," Brenda breathed against Sharon's lips, her hands coming down to frame the older woman's face, tearful brown eyes searching the green pair staring right back at her. Sharon reached up and took hold of one Brenda's hands, dragging it down to rest against the inside of her left breast, against the steady hammering of her heart.

"I'm here," Sharon whispered. "I'm here."

Brenda's fingers curled against her flesh, kneading the mound under her palm, feeling Sharon's nipples pebbling through the flimsy fabric of her tank top until the older woman shuddered beneath her, pulling her lips away from Brenda's to let loose a breathy moan. Brenda took the sound for permission to continue, shifting so that she could pull the lightweight shirt up and off, revealing most of Sharon to her hungry eyes. Years later, just the memory of the predatory expression on Brenda Leigh's face in that moment would be enough to make Sharon shiver with arousal; in the moment, with Brenda's hands warm on her skin and her voice close in Sharon's ear, it was nearly enough to make her come on the spot.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Brenda whispered, her voice ragged, her lips caressing the skin just behind the curve of her ear.

"Jesus, Brenda, you're wearing too many clothes," Sharon growled in response and the blonde perched on her lap laughed out loud before pulling off her own top, leaving an expanse of creamy white skin behind for Sharon to explore. She felt the rush of wetness between her thighs, felt the urgent need to touch, to kiss, to lick every inch of that skin, to hear Brenda scream, and she had neither the time nor the energy to wonder why. She only knew that she wanted Brenda Leigh, more than anything, and she was going to have her.

Brenda's mouth, warm and wet and hotter than Sharon ever thought it might be, was burning a trail down the older woman's chest, heading straight for the aching peak of her breast, and all Sharon could do was wind her hands in long blonde curls and hold Brenda closer to her, whimpering when she finally felt Brenda's mouth right where she needed it. She arched her back, pushing more of herself against Brenda's lips, and was rewarded with a gentle bite to the very tip of her nipple. Sharon did her very best not to scream, cognizant of the fact that, no matter what time it was, there were always people awake and walking around the base.

Sharon slid her hands down Brenda's sides, heading for the loose waist of the military issue sweatpants the little blonde wore, and did not hesitate in sliding her hands inside, fingers searching until they found the warmth and wet at Brenda's center.

The little blonde shot upright, rising up on her knees and bucking her hips down against Sharon's hand, gasping and trying to silence her moans with a lip caught between her teeth. She was always doing that; Sharon had told her to stop it when they were out on missions but here she found the sight incredibly attractive. She leaned forward, catching Brenda's mouth with her own and sucking that bottom lip between her own teeth as she eased one finger through Brenda's folds and up inside her.

"Fuck, Sharon," Brenda whispered, amazed somehow, and Sharon found herself unable to keep from laughing at the fact that Miss Prim and Proper Brenda Leigh cursed like a sailor in bed.

Brenda's hands flew down Sharon's body, and the auburn-haired woman parted her legs as much as she could manage with Brenda still partially astride her lap, moaning when she felt just the tips of Brenda's fingers brushing against her own wet folds.

"Wanna feel you," Brenda murmured against Sharon's neck, dropping a serious of suckling kisses there. "Want you to come with me."

Sharon added a finger as Brenda's own breached her, and they cried out together, each looking appropriately abashed at the echoing of the sound in their tiny room. Sharon kissed Brenda again then, hard, swallowing the sounds they made as they thrust and writhed together, each pushing the other higher and higher until they came together, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over them until they lay back against the pillows, boneless and spent.

Sharon pushed Brenda Leigh's hair back so she could see the young woman's face, and she found dark brown eyes staring up at her, utterly open and utterly full of the kind of affection that pulled at Sharon's heartstrings, made her never want to leave this bed.

Brenda just kept smiling up at her. "I get the feeling you've done this before," she said slyly and Sharon just smiled, leaning down to kiss her gently.

"That's funny, I was going to say the same thing about you," she answered. "But let's have that conversation another time, shall we?"

Brenda nodded, snuggling closer into Sharon's warmth, and Sharon held her tighter, unsure of where to go from here but knowing that, wherever it was, they would be going together.

_Los Angeles, December 2006_

Sharon lifted her head, shocked to find her body warm and her face stained with tears. _What the hell am I doing? _she wondered, trying to shake the feeling of sorrow that had buried itself in her bones. That first time, that first night, she'd been thinking only of herself and Brenda Leigh, only of the desire between them and the potential they had together. And after their first taste of what they could be together they had been unable to stop; always the consummate professionals at work they often met at Brenda's home or in hotels to spend stolen hours together. Their missions abroad became fewer and fewer as Sharon's family's demands on her time grew, and the few trips they did make together were each filled with a sort of fairy-tale glow, days and days when Sharon didn't have to worry about her family and they could just be.

That time had passed all too quickly, however, and now where were they? Sharon had learned that Brenda was living with a handsome FBI agent; _lucky her_, Sharon thought ruefully. The last conversation Sharon had with Jack was the yearly argument about where the kids were going to spend Christmas. Sharon had won, but only on the condition that she ship her children off to Virginia to see Jack on their spring break. This was what her life had come to, avoiding Brenda Leigh in the halls at work and fighting with her ex-husband about who could have their kids on the holidays.

_It's your own damn fault,_ she thought morosely. It was her fault, all her fault, for thinking she could have Brenda and Jack both, and the last thing she wanted was to storm into Brenda's life as though the Deputy Chief owed her anything. She knew better. She would keep her head down, and she would try to forget the warmth of Brenda Leigh's smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Los Angeles, December 2008**

This was torture, pure and simple, and Pope had to have known that it would be when he had insisted that Sharon come to this damn party. She stared at herself in the mirror above the glistening sink in the bathroom in the back of the hotel ballroom, her makeup perfect and her expression forlorn. She needed to get out of here, but she also needed to play nice. She liked her job, and she liked the position it afforded her, as far away from Brenda Leigh Johnson as she could be, but she detested the sheer amount of ass-kissing that seemed to be involved with having a higher rank. There was always someone above you, and the higher you got, the more those people seemed to crave subservience.

And Pope, God, Pope was the worst of all. Sharon had not attended the yearly policemen's ball since Brenda Leigh had arrived, and until just a few days ago she was certain that no one had noticed her absence. No one except for Andy, and even then she couldn't be sure because they hadn't spoken in at least a year. He had been too busy fawning over his pretty new Chief to even fight with her, and Sharon found that while she didn't exactly miss _him_ she missed having someone in her life. Brenda Leigh's arrival had made things difficult for her in more ways than she ever anticipated.

And then last week, Pope had called her into his office to "ask" (which actually meant order) her to attend. Evidently Pope had noticed her repeated absences, and he apparently thought it wasn't good for interdepartmental relations. He seemed to think Sharon's not showing up to the yearly gathering was being construed as a sign of her contempt for the department. And though she tried to argue that no one would care if she were there, that if anything people would be glad to not have to worry about a hated Internal Affairs officer wandering around while they were getting drunk with their buddies, Pope was having none of it; he dismissed her arguments with a wave of his hand and said, "I'll see you there" in an overly cheery tone of voice that set her teeth on edge.

So she was here, hiding in the bathroom because she needed a moment to pull herself together. She looked good, and she knew it, but she also knew that the chances of her bumping into Brenda Leigh Johnson here were very, _very _high, and that scared her more than anything in recent memory. Thoughts of Brenda in a pretty dress, hanging on the arm of her pretty husband, filled the Captain's mind, and swam around alongside the image of Brenda as she was the last time Sharon had seen her, naked and sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that Sharon was about to walk out on her, never to return.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, rushing out of the bathroom before she could think better of it. She focused on the perfect click of her stilettos against the floor, and the brush of her long black dress against her legs, but the sound of her shoes made her lonely, and the silken feel of fabric against her skin just reminded her of Brenda's lips, and Sharon desperately, _desperately _wanted to leave. She would find Pope, she would say hello, she would nod to Andy Flynn if she happened across him, and she would get the fuck out.

_That's the plan Sharon. Stick to the plan._

···

Brenda hated things like this. She hated the formal dresses and she hated the small talk, and she hated dancing in public while everyone stared and made her feel as if she were on display in a museum; she just _hated _it. Fritz, on the other hand, was loving it. He moved easily from group to group with Brenda on his arm, talking to everyone, getting drinks for Brenda and club sodas for himself. He did look dapper in his tux, but he was so damn chipper it was starting to make Brenda's teeth itch. She looked around desperately for a member of her squad, someone who was bound to feel as out of place here as she did, someone she could hide in a corner and commiserate with. Her eyes fell on Andy Flynn across the room, and she made a beeline for him.

Before Brenda reached him, a dark-haired woman moved between them, her back to Brenda. The woman paused, speaking to Flynn, and Brenda watched from a slight distance, surprised to see that even from here the distress was plain on Flynn's face. His expression waffled between surprised and sad and uncertain as the woman talked, and Brenda watched, fascinated. Who the hell was he talking to?

All Brenda could see of the woman was a long cascade of dark, artfully tousled hair and an expanse of smooth pale skin revealed by the plunging back of her black dress. Brenda tried to change her position, to catch a glimpse of the woman's face or perhaps move in close enough to hear what the pair were saying to each other, but she feared that if she went too close Flynn would notice her and the element of surprise would be lost. She would also have to explain why she was hanging around, staring at him and the mystery woman he was speaking to.

As she watched, she was struck by the feeling that she knew the woman. She couldn't place it, couldn't identify how just the slope of another person's back could seem so familiar. And then, for one delirious moment, she was completely and utterly certain that it was Sharon Raydor. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest and her palms felt clammy; _how,_ she wondered_ how could it be?_

The answer was obvious, of course. It _couldn't_ be Sharon, and she knew that. Sharon was long gone, long, long gone, and if nothing else, the woman's hair was all wrong. Too long, and too dark. Under the lights sparkling down from the various chandeliers overhead, Brenda could see none of Sharon's familiar auburn highlights. _Get a hold of yourself,_ Brenda thought harshly, taking a long sip of her Merlot.

And then the woman leaned in and dropped a kiss on Andy's cheek before walking past him, heading for the exits. Andy turned to watch her go, hands in his pockets.

Brenda walked up as his back was turned, calling out when she was close enough, "Lieutenant Flynn!" he turned back to her, and the sadness she had seen on his face moments before lingered around his eyes.

"Chief," he responded with a slight nod. He remained quiet, and the sadness stayed, too, infecting Brenda Leigh. Though she knew it wasn't Sharon, the appearance of the woman had dragged up all of those memories, of all the long nights they'd spent together, and the way she'd felt when Sharon held her close. She shivered despite the warmth of the night.

"Making new friends?" she asked, nodding her head in the direction the woman had gone, and Flynn just shook his head.

"Just catching up with someone I haven't seen in a while," he answered, his eyes flickering towards the door the woman had disappeared through, and for a moment Brenda wanted to tell him to follow the mystery lady; he clearly wanted to.

"You don't seem to be doing a good job of catching her," Brenda joked, ashamed of her own pathetic attempt at lightheartedness. "You let her get away."

"Yeah, I did," Flynn told her, and the heaviness of his tone told Brenda that he meant that in more ways than one. The conversation had taken a morose turn that did not suit the festive atmosphere, and Brenda desperately wished for a way to escape.

"Chief, would you like to dance?" Flynn asked her suddenly, his face oddly hopeful, and Brenda found she did want to dance. To dance with him, actually, to sway together to a sad song as they shared their secret heartbreaks, commiserating in their loneliness in the midst of all these happy people. She had her mouth open to answer him when she felt a familiar hand on her elbow and heard her husband's voice in her ear.

"There you are," Fritz said cheerily. "Dance with me, Brenda Leigh," he told her, and began to lead her away without waiting for her answer. She pulled back long enough to look deep into Andy Flynn's eyes as she said, "I'll catch up with you later, Lieutenant."

Andy just nodded, and as Brenda allowed her husband to lead her away he downed the last of his club soda and headed out the door, chasing after Sharon.

**Los Angeles, 2009**

"You can't be serious," Sharon said softly, hoping her voice didn't carry past the kitchen into the bedrooms beyond. Ethan and Lily were both in their rooms, Lily sleeping and Ethan playing on his computer, and the last thing Sharon needed was for either of them to come waltzing into the middle of this conversation. What she needed, if she were honest with herself, was a very large glass of _something. _At this point she would have taken just about anything, so long as the alcohol content was high enough.

"You just graduated from college. You can't throw your life away like this, sweetheart," she continued, and Garrett shook his head.

"I'm _not_, Mom. Joining the Air Force will give me lots of options, and I'm going to OTS. I'm going to make a career."

Sharon closed her eyes and saw the Humvee blowing up in front of her. It had been nearly fifteen years since that sweltering day, and she still felt it in her bones. The fear, the danger of it, and she hadn't even been a soldier. The thought of her son, her baby, in that same situation tore at her heart, and she could barely keep the tears at bay.

"And it's the Air Force, it's not like I'm talking about becoming a Marine." He crossed his arms over his chest, and she was struck by how much he looked like Jack in that moment. Tall and broad-shouldered, so very strong, and so very stubborn.

"You were going to be a lawyer," she said in a small voice, remembering how happy she'd been when he told her didn't want to be a policeman or a fireman or a soldier but a lawyer, someone who worked behind a desk and went home at the same time every day. She saw that dream slipping away from her, only to be replaced by sleepless nights spent worrying about him, about where he was and what he was doing and when she was going to see him again.

He sat down across from her at the dinner table, and this seemed suddenly so very reminiscent of conversations she'd had with his father years and years ago, with the roles very much reversed. Sharon had sat across the table from Jack and tried to explain how important her work was, how she'd be back soon and he shouldn't be so upset, and Jack had tried to remind her that they had a family, that her job was hurting them. She couldn't see this conversation ending any better than the old ones had.

"Mom-" Garrett started, but then her cell phone rang, the tone oddly loud in the stillness of the kitchen, and her son rolled his eyes. He was used to this sort of interruption, and he sat back quietly as she answered the call.

"Raydor," she said, her heart sinking when she heard Will Pope's voice on the other end of the line.

"Captain," he said, and Sharon reached out, laid a gentle hand on her son's arm. He knew then, knew that she was going, that they were going to have to finish this conversation another time, and Sharon found herself once more hating, not her job, but what her job did to her family. What it did to her.

"David Gabriel has been involved in a shooting outside a bar-" Sharon's heart leapt into her throat as she listened to Pope's words. She had never met the young man in question but she knew his name, and she knew who he worked for. He was Major Crimes. Investigating David Gabriel meant investigating Brenda Leigh. _Please, God, no, not tonight, please, _she thought desperately. "Commander Taylor is at the crime scene now, evidently he was a witness. I need you there as quickly as possible, Captain."

Sharon struggled to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth, to force the air out of her lungs into words, some excuse. "I'll send my Sergeants," she said finally, "I cannot investigate, Chief-"

He cut her off quickly. "Captain, that excuse will not work this time. I understand your prior relationship with Andy Flynn has kept you from investigating Major Crimes in the past, but I need you on this one. I need this investigation to be above reproach, and you're the only person I trust to do this."

What could she possibly say? She would have to go. She could see no other option. She would have to see Brenda Leigh, she would have to speak to that woman, to hear her voice, and she would have to find a way to face her former lover without falling to pieces. She took a deep breath to answer him but Pope was rattling off the details he had on the case and she was trying to reign in her thoughts, to listen and process and try to ignore the way the memories pulled at her.

···

Brenda sighed, the stillness of her home stifling her tonight. Fritz was gone, another meeting, and even the cat seemed to be avoiding her. She had no case files to go over, no urge to watch television, no one to call. She was utterly alone, buried under the weight of the life she'd built for herself. And there seemed to be only one person to blame, only one face that swam before her eyes. Thirteen years since she'd first kissed Sharon Raydor, twelve years since Sharon had walked out her door, never to be seen again, and Brenda still couldn't shake the dark-haired woman from her mind. Especially not on nights like this. Long ago, when she lived in D.C. and her life was hers and hers alone, Brenda would have called Sharon on a night like this. And Sharon would have offered some excuse to her husband and she would have slipped out into the night, coming into Brenda's bed because Brenda had asked her to.

But Sharon had made her choice, put her family first like she always should have done, and Brenda didn't know where she was, and all this moping and reminiscing was only making her situation worse. She tried to be pragmatic, to turn her emotions off, to remind herself how much she loved her husband, but all she could see was Sharon. She rose up off the couch, heading for her bedroom.

Once inside she laid down flat on her stomach and shimmied under the bed, pulling out a shoebox. Brenda was a notorious hoarder, and this shoebox contained everything that remained of her relationship with Sharon; and once again she found herself devastated that all that remained was a single photograph, taken long ago. Brenda used to keep the picture in the box that housed Will Pope's letters, the letters she had thrown away years ago when Fritz first told her he loved her, but she had found herself unable to throw away the photograph of Sharon. She stared at it now, running her fingers over the glossy paper.

Sharon smiled with her arm draped around Brenda's shoulders, the pair of them wearing desert camo as they stood side-by-side in that Army base in Afghanistan, the day before the explosion. Sharon's auburn hair burned fire-bright in the unrelenting sun, and Brenda's cheeks were pink from the exposure. All she could think as she stared at the picture was how young they looked, how happy, how unaware of the emotional devastation they would cause each other. She assumed Sharon had been devastated by the end of their affair; she sort of hoped so, at least. It didn't seem fair that Brenda should be the only one to suffer.

Brenda was in the middle of some full-blown nostalgia when her cell phone rang and she rose to answer it immediately, not even bothering to replace the photograph she still clutched in her hands.

The caller id flashing on the cell phone's screen proclaimed Andy Flynn's name in bright letters, and Brenda sighed again as she answered. She had been doing that a lot tonight.

"Lieutenant Flynn?" she said.

"Chief, we got a problem." His voice was low and plainly irritated, and Brenda immediately regretted having answered the phone. "Gabriel's shot someone-" _Well, _Brenda thought, _that will certainly get my mind off Sharon. _

As she listened to Andy sketching in the situation, her heart sank. Gabriel's recent behavior had been like the rebellious streak of a previously buttoned-up teenager, and Brenda felt very much like the frustrated mother who had reached the end of her rope. "Gabriel's on his way to the hospital," Flynn told her. "Provenza and I will try to keep Raydor off your tail so you can question him first."

_Raydor._

The name echoed in Brenda's mind like a gunshot, like the distant sound of a Humvee exploding, like the quiet click of a front door closing. _Raydor._

_It can't be._

"Who, Lieutenant?" she asked, the words coming out stuttered, unsure, and for a moment she worried that Andy wouldn't understand the question, but he did.

"Captain Sharon Raydor, head of the Force Investigation Division. Pope must think Gabriel's really fucked up here, I don't think he would have sent her otherwise."

_Captain Sharon Raydor._

Brenda dropped into one of her kitchen chairs as her knees gave out from beneath her. _Sharon Sharon Sharon… _her thoughts ran chaotic with the images and sounds and smells of Sharon she remembered so well from all those years ago, and her heart beat so wildly she feared she would lose consciousness. Brenda Leigh was seldom surprised by people anymore, but this had done it. This night was more than she could handle. David Gabriel had shot a teenager and Sharon Raydor was working for the LAPD.

A memory surfaced unbidden of Andy Flynn at the Policemen's Ball, of him talking to a woman with an elegant bearing and pale skin, and Brenda fought the urge to throw up. It was her, it had to have been her. They had been ten feet away from each other, and Brenda had not spoken to her. Had not really seen.

Brenda had danced with her husband and watched as Andy Flynn chased after Sharon, and for the briefest of moments she was insanely jealous that Andy knew her, that he knew she was here, that he had spoken to her more recently than Brenda had. Sharon _belonged_ to her, damn it.

_Stop this, Brenda Leigh, _she told herself forcefully, coming back into the conversation as the Lieutenant on the other end of the line told her where to go. He hung up and she found herself alone in her kitchen, clutching a photograph of Sharon Raydor, her heart clamoring uncontrollably in her chest.

_Time to go to work._

···

The steady clack of her heels on the linoleum echoed an angry tune as she made her way down the hallway. Her feet carried her onward, even as her heart begged her to turn around and run, to get as far away from this place as she could. They had sent her to the wrong hospital, and she knew this was only the beginning. They would not cooperate. Andy Flynn would behave as though they had never been friends, as though he had never spent a single night lying next to her, naked and sweaty in her bed. And Brenda.

_Sweet Jesus, Brenda. _

What was she supposed to do? What could she do? What would Brenda do?

Sharon wasn't an idiot; she knew Brenda would not reveal that they had once been lovers. She had a husband and a job she'd gotten from Will Pope, and the blonde would certainly not want to throw away either of those things by revealing their prior relationship. But would she tell people that they had known each other before? Did she know that Sharon was here? Brenda didn't respond well to surprises, Sharon knew.

The sound of a too-familiar southern drawl floated down the hallway, and Sharon fought down a wave of nausea. She kept breathing, and she kept walking.

···

Even as Brenda listened to David Gabriel's story her ear strained for any sound coming from the hallway beyond, for any hint that Sharon was approaching. She resisted the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear for the thousandth time. She focused on breathing, leaned back against the wall to keep herself upright. _Sharon is coming, Sharon is coming…_ the thought kept popping up at all the wrong moments, and her eyes kept flickering towards the doorway before she could stop herself. This was madness, pure and simple. Waiting for Sharon's arrival was driving her mad.

And David Gabriel was almost certainly going to prison. No gun, no other witnesses, a teenage boy with no money in his pockets; this did not look good for her young Sergeant. The fact that Sharon Raydor would be investigating made matters worse; Brenda remembered her as a formidable interrogator, sharp, quick, and manipulative when necessary. Brenda physically shuddered when she imagined how awful this was going to be, how difficult it would be to find herself on the other side of this investigation, no longer working together with Sharon. They weren't on the same team anymore, and Brenda feared that whatever fondness they had once felt for one another could only have been turned into malice by the passage of time.

So she decided she would strike first. She could not let Sharon break her again. She could not stand here, hopeful, extending an offer of friendship, only to be once again rejected by the lovely Captain Raydor. She would be cool, and she would remind Sharon that she was in control here. This was her home, damn it, this was her squad, and Sharon was not allowed to take that away from her.

And then Sharon was there, and Brenda lost the ability to breathe.

···

Sharon's momentum carried her around the corner, and then she was _there_, Brenda was there, in that atrocious pink coat and her perfect blonde curls, and for the space of a single heartbeat Sharon couldn't stop herself. She stared into Brenda's eyes, dark brown eyes that stared right back at her, and she very nearly lost it. The temptation to run, or worse, to throw herself at the Deputy Chief, was almost irrespirable, and when she looked into Brenda's eyes she could see the same struggle. She saw hurt there, and confusion, and the tiniest bit of hope, and it was the hope that felt most like a knife through her heart. Sharon wrenched her eyes away, moving past Brenda even as the blonde murmured, "Captain Raydor" in that familiar drawl, and she kept her back turned.

_Just keep breathing, _she told herself, holding her back rigid. So Brenda had known she was coming. Someone had warned her. Sharon would wonder later about how that conversation had happened, about how Brenda had responded, about how long Brenda had known they were living in the same city, but right now it was time for work. Work was the only thing keeping Sharon together in this moment, and she knew it. She could feel Brenda's eyes on her back, and she fought the urge to cry. She had left Brenda all those years ago, she had made that choice, for the sake of her children and the sake of a marriage that had been doomed from the start, but _she _had done that, and she had no right to feel betrayed by Brenda.

She went straight to David Gabriel, and began her interview. She had to make it through this. She had to.

···

Brenda had wondered, right before Sharon showed up, if the Captain would remember her. Their affair had lasted barely a year, and it had been over for more than a decade; what if Sharon had forgotten her name, or her face? What if she was wrong about this whole thing, and there just happened to be another woman named Sharon Raydor, and her Sharon was still gone?

That thought gave her hope and steadied her nerves, but it was dashed to pieces when Sharon rounded the corner, eyes locked on Brenda's. They were the same color green, though they were hidden behind glasses.

And then she looked away. Their eye contact had only lasted a moment, but it had answered Brenda's questions. Sharon certainly remembered her and she was not surprised to find her here.

The dark-haired woman brushed by her without bothering to speak to her, focused with laser-like intensity on David Gabriel, and Brenda could only stand against the wall and fume her quiet outrage. How _dare_ she ignore Brenda? After everything they'd been through together, Sharon had breezed past as though none of it had ever happened, as though Sharon had not screamed with pleasure with Brenda's fingers buried inside her and Brenda's mouth warm against her throat. As though Brenda didn't know exactly what she smelled like, tasted like, what she looked like when she came.

Brenda allowed Sharon this moment of control, watching carefully to see how the woman would act, to see how Brenda would need to respond, and indulging in a careful examination of the way the years had changed her Sharon.

If anything, this Captain seemed smaller than her Sharon, thinner; her lovely face bore more lines than Brenda recalled, but the beginnings of those lines had been present thirteen years ago. Her hair was lovely like this, so much longer than Brenda had ever seen it, darker, too. It seemed to suit her, as did the navy trench she wore. Though Brenda couldn't see what lay beneath the navy coat, she could see that it fit the Captain well, and it showed off her long, lean legs. Brenda had to force herself not to stare at those legs, not remember how they had felt wrapped around her waist.

She listened to Sharon's words, to the precise tone of her voice, the careful articulation of each syllable, and she very nearly lost her precious control. Sharon was saying something about a breathalyzer test and Brenda had to tilt her head back, catch her bottom lip between her teeth. _That's Sharon, _she kept thinking, _that's my Sharon, right there, and she won't even look at me._

_···_

Sharon knew she had no choice. She had to speak to Brenda. Gabriel had gone to take the breathalyzer as she had requested, and there was absolutely no reason for her not to speak to the Deputy Chief. She took a deep breath and turned around.

"Captain Raydor, it is so nice to finally meet you," Brenda said, and Sharon steeled herself for what would come next. Brenda's tone had been cold, despite the politeness of her words, and Sharon understood her meaning. This was how they were going to play it. Pretend they had never met, never kissed, never fucked.

Sharon wasn't sure she could do that, but she was damn sure going to try. She had to.

Their conversation was stilted, forced, fraught with a sort of tension she didn't recall existing between them in the past. There had always been a friendly tension, an attraction, but the energy between them now was bitter. Angry. And when Brenda spoke, her words cut Sharon to the core.

"You are a Captain, and a subordinate officer, and you will remember that when addressing me. Do I make myself clear, Captain?"

Sharon balled her hands into fists at her side, the only outward sign she gave of the turmoil going on in her mind. Brenda _hated _her. She saw that now. And the blonde had every right to; Sharon had left her lying naked and alone, and given no explanation. And Brenda was not some random lay; they had loved each other. Brenda had dragged Sharon's body from the burning wreckage of a Humvee while taking enemy fire. Brenda had comforted her like no one else ever had. And now?

Now Brenda was insisting that Sharon call her _Chief. _That she remember her place. Which, it would seem, was no longer by Brenda's side.

"Perfectly, Chief," she answered Brenda's earlier question. "Excuse me. Got work to do," she said, offering a tight smile, trying to calculate in her head how long it would take her to reach the nearest bathroom. She was certain how much longer she could keep the tears at bay.

···

"Captain Raydor!" Brenda called out, moving as quickly down the hallway as propriety and her heels would allow. She couldn't let Sharon go. She had seen it, had seen the brokenness in Sharon's expression as she walked away, the tears just about to fall, and she had known in that moment that she had made a misstep. There was no reason for her to pull rank like that, to try to keep Sharon down; she had looked into the Captain's eyes and seen the woman she had once fallen in love with, and the thought that she might have hurt her was more than she could bear.

Sharon spun on one elegant heel when she heard Brenda call out her name, confusion written all over her face and her officers forming a semi-circle behind her, watching Brenda with mistrust.

"May I speak to you in private, please?" Brenda asked, and Sharon stared at her, dumbstruck. Finally she nodded, and Brenda turned to open the nearest door, ushering Sharon into another waiting room, though this one was empty. The second the door closed behind them an awkward silence fell. They faced off against one another, older now and both of them hardened by the passage of time, uncertain of what to say or do when faced with the physical reminder of their shared history. They studied each other's faces, and the minutes dragged on, until finally it became too much.

Brenda broke first.

"Sharon," she said, her voice small and broken, barely more than a whisper, and Sharon launched herself at the Deputy Chief, arms wrapping around the blonde's lithe frame and lips landing right on Brenda's mouth, and all she could think was that this was where she belonged.

Brenda kissed her back hungrily, furiously, one hand clutching her ass possessively, the other tangled in hair that was so much longer than she remembered, but just as soft. Brenda held the other woman tightly against herself, as though she never wanted to let go, and Sharon clung to her just as desperately.

Their tongues warred with each other, Brenda's pushing forward to taste Sharon's mouth before the dark-haired woman retaliated, longing to feel the warmth she had missed. The passion was there, as strong as they each remembered, an undeniable frenzy that was building faster than either could have anticipated.

And then Sharon broke away. She rested her forehead against Brenda's, each of them gasping, their bodies close enough for their breasts to brush together and their hips to bump one another.

"I missed you so much," Sharon whispered, terrified of what would happen next.

Brenda could only sniffle, trying so hard not to cry, keeping Sharon close to her.

With each passing second, Sharon became more aware of how precarious their situation was. Anyone could walk through that door, and anyone could see this. Could see her with Brenda, could make assumptions, could take control of when and how their secret came out. And this, this thing between them, it did not belong to anyone else. More than that, though, this thing between them was over. Had been over for years. Sharon had three children to think about, Brenda had a husband, Sharon was investigating a member of her squad; they couldn't do this. Not now. She kissed Brenda's forehead and moved away, reaching for the door handle before she could stop herself.

Brenda let her go, let her slip out of the room without another word, and as Sharon rejoined her squad with the taste of Brenda Leigh on her lips, she found herself no less certain than she had been twenty minutes before. All she knew was that her life was about to get much, _much _more difficult.


	6. Chapter 6

_I will keep all those memories  
>Of the good times<br>Yeah, there were some good times  
>So when you think of you and me<br>They won't even cross your mind  
>If you need me to make you cry<br>I don't want to but I'll try  
>So you don't have to love me anymore<br>-"So You Don't Have to Love Me Anymore", Alan Jackson_

_···_

**Los Angeles, 2009**

Brenda stood in the center of the now empty waiting room, arms wrapped tightly around herself, fighting hard to breathe. The fear, the confusion, the need that filled her swirled through her mind, making rational thought nearly impossible. _Sharon, Sharon…_ her thoughts were filled with Sharon, with the way she looked now and the way she'd looked before, the way she smelled so differently, but tasted just the same. _Sharon, Sharon…_

_What just happened? _

She'd changed her mind a thousand times in the moments before Sharon had walked through the door; she wanted to be warm and friendly, she wanted to be cold and distant, she wanted to behave as though she had no idea who Sharon was, she wanted to wrap her arms around the woman in a tight embrace. And then Sharon had appeared, and all of Brenda's plans evaporated. She had so many questions; why had Sharon left, why wasn't the older woman surprised to see Brenda standing in that waiting room; where was her wedding ring? Sharon hadn't even _spoken _to her when she entered, and Brenda had tried to follow her cue. Tried to be aloof, tried to be calm and collected, even though inside she was screaming. She had been practically bitter when she spoke to the woman, and she knew it. Emphasizing her rank, trying to put Sharon down, that had been in poor taste and she knew she would need to apologize for it later. That had been her intention when she'd chased after Sharon; she'd seen the pain on the woman's face, had seen something of her Sharon, the old Sharon, lurking beneath the fierceness of Captain Raydor, and she had to follow her. Had to be near her Sharon, if only for a moment.

And then Sharon had _kissed _her, and she'd fallen into even more shit.

The ring on Brenda's finger weighed heavy on her hand and heavier on her mind. How could it be that, after all this time, she'd finally found Sharon again, only now Brenda was the one who was married, the one who would have to choose which relationship mattered more to her? Would she have to choose at all? Sharon had initiated the kiss, that was certain, but Brenda didn't know what Sharon wanted from her, what she expected. Brenda didn't know what she expected from Sharon.

They would have to talk, and soon, she knew, but the middle of an investigation didn't seem like the best time to have a heart to heart with her former lover. Particularly given the fact that Sharon was investigating _David Gabriel, _of all people, and Brenda's squad was divided enough over him as it was.

_Sharon, Sharon…_

After all this time, the power the woman still held over her heart was stronger than Brenda ever considered it might be. She had often wondered what she would do when confronted with the woman who had left her, naked and alone, all those years before, but never had she dreamed it would be like this. So quick, and so devastating. Just seeing her had cut Brenda deep, and the feel of her kiss, as intoxicating as Brenda remembered, was enough to make her weak in the knees. And then she was gone, and Brenda was once again alone, wondering when she would see Sharon Raydor again.

_···_

Sharon paced impatiently outside Brenda's office, hands shoved deep in her pockets to stop them from shaking. She had to remain steady. Sharon had a mission, and she was going to do whatever it took to accomplish it, no matter how it might hurt her. Brenda Leigh had a life now, and no matter how much Sharon might long for her, no matter how many sleepless nights she had laid awake, wondering how things might have been, she could not be responsible for destroying Brenda's life the way she had destroyed her own. What happened in the hospital could not happen again. Sharon could not allow it.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention, too light and too quick to be anyone but her Brenda Leigh. She took a deep breath, and practiced her speech one more time in her head. It would not be an easy thing to break Brenda's heart, but if it could protect the little blonde from the devastation Sharon herself had known, she would do whatever it took.

"Good morning, Chief," she said as Brenda came into view, a forced, uneasy smile taking up residence on her face. Brenda's smile in response was far more genuine, and it tore at Sharon's heart.

"Captain," Brenda said warmly, opening the door to her office and holding it aside so Sharon could pass through. Once they were safely inside the glass walls Brenda closed the door and drew the blinds, blocking them from view. She moved behind her desk and smiled expectantly at Sharon as an uneasy silence fell.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday," Sharon began, speaking quickly, terrified of losing her nerve now that she was face-to-face with the blonde Deputy Chief. Brenda's face fell, but Sharon stood her ground. "It was incredibly unprofessional, and I can assure you that it will not happen again."

_No matter how much I might like for it to, _she added silently. She held her breath and waited for Brenda's response.

It was a long time coming. Brenda opened her mouth as if to speak, and then closed it again, as though unsure of what she wanted to say. Sharon could not bear it, could not handle the waiting, the anticipation of what Brenda might say. She knew it wouldn't take much for her to fall right back into Brenda's arms, to pick up right where they left off, but Sharon could not bear the thought of being Brenda Leigh's mistress. She turned to go, and Brenda found her words.

"Sharon," she said softly, "Before you go, please answer one question for me."

Green eyes found brown, and Sharon sighed resignedly, nodding in agreement.

"How long have you known I was in LA?"

It was exactly the question Sharon had been expecting, and it was the only one she didn't want to answer. She knew how bad it looked, how angry it would make Brenda. And she knew it was the only way to keep them from falling into old patterns.

"Since your first investigation," she said, knowing that Brenda had to have expected it, and knowing that it would break her heart all the same. She had known for years, and she had never gone to Brenda Leigh. Even before the little blonde had remarried, Sharon had kept her distance. And she could see that Brenda knew that now, could see the hurt written all over her face.

"Who told you?" Brenda asked, her voice trembling, though with sorrow or rage Sharon could not tell.

Sharon didn't see what it mattered who told her, and she spoke her next words without thinking.

"Andy came home after that first night, bitching about you stealing his investigation."

"Andy?" Brenda fired back, looking even more devastated than before. Sharon saw her mistake then; Andy had become Brenda's right hand man, one of the few people she trusted implicitly, and the revelation would surely taint their relationship. But Sharon also knew it would make Brenda angry enough to keep them apart, and to achieve the goal she had set for this little meeting, and so she steeled herself and plunged ahead.

"Lieutenant Flynn," she said, her tone bitter even to her own ears. She tried to hold onto the anger she'd felt all those years before, watching Brenda charm Andy away from her. She had to stay angry. She had to stay away from Brenda Leigh.

"He came home and bitched to you about me," Brenda parroted back her words, and Sharon couldn't help but worry that she was probably going to make things worse for Andy. He hated her now, though, and she couldn't imagine their relationship becoming any more fraught than it already was. It would be worth it in the end, if it kept Brenda Leigh safe.

"Were you fucking him?" Brenda asked, voice dangerously low, and all Sharon could do was meet her penetrating gaze. She knew she didn't need to respond. She knew Brenda already had the answer to that particular question. Brenda crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.

"Answer me one more question," she said. "Did you leave Jack for him? Did you do for Andy what you never did for me?"

And there it was. The one thing that had always bothered Brenda about their relationship, the biggest problem the pair of them had faced. Brenda had cried more tears than could be counted over Sharon's refusal to leave her husband, and for a moment the Captain considered lying. It would be the final indignity, the one thing that would make Brenda hate Sharon for the rest of her life, if Sharon told her that she had left Jack for someone else. But Sharon had told too many lies in her lifetime, and she found in this moment that the only words she could speak were the truth.

"Jack left me," she said. "After he found out about you-" surprise registered on Brenda's face, and Sharon remembered that she had never divulged that information to the blonde-"he never trusted me again. He walked out on me and our kids because of you."

Ever fiber of her being was begging her to stop, but she found that now she started, she had to see this through to the end. "I never would have left him, Brenda Leigh. He was the father of my children and I loved him. But he walked away from me, because of you. You ended my marriage. You tore up my family. And then you showed up here, and you took Andy away, too. You batted your eyelashes and he was gone."

Sharon turned away as she felt the prick of tears, heading for the door.

"Well thank God for that," Brenda said bitingly. "Everything you touch turns to shit. I can't believe I ever loved you."

The words were like a hammer to Sharon's heart, shattering the already fragmented pieces. She turned the door handle and walked away, her own cruel retort sticking in her mouth. The words would not come. She had loved Brenda once, loved her still, and she new that Brenda deserved better than what she had to offer. Brenda was hurting now, but at the end of the day she would go back to her comfortable home and her doting husband, and she would be happier than Sharon could ever hope to make her.

The Captain made a bee-line for the bathroom as the tears streamed openly down her face, praying no one would pass by her in the hall. She would have to face Brenda again soon enough; they had both been called into Pope's office for a meeting. The coldness between them would not be forced now as it had been before. It would not be a display put on to cover up their prior relationship. It would be real, the only protection Sharon had left to give to the little woman who still owned her, heart and soul.

**St. Petersburg, 1997**

Brenda woke in the early hours of the morning, pale sunlight slanting in through the poorly constructed blinds on the hotel windows. She shivered despite the warmth of Sharon beside her, and snuggled closer to the naked body of her lover. Sharon mumbled something incoherent and wrapped her arms tightly around Brenda.

It was the morning of their last day in St. Petersburg. They had no agenda today, no diplomacy to be done, just hours upon hours to spend together and then the start of a long flight home. It would be the last morning for the foreseeable future when Brenda would wake up next to a rumpled and naked Sharon Raydor, and the thought made her unbearably sad. Every time they went away like this it became harder to adjust to Sharon's absence once they returned home, not just in her bed, but in her life. Sharon's bed would be warm with her husband sleeping beside her, her life joyously full as she chased after her sons. And Brenda? Brenda would be utterly alone, waiting for a phone call, a chance to spend a few stolen hours with the woman she loved.

She could see the other little bed across the hotel room, its sheets crisp and unwrinkled. They were always given rooms like this, in hotels and military bases, with two beds, and always they shared one, desperate to be close to one another. If anyone else had noticed, they hadn't said a word.

Brenda turned her head to drop a kiss on Sharon's shoulder, and the auburn-haired woman's arms tightened around her reflexively.

"Hey," Sharon mumbled from somewhere near her ear, and Brenda laughed. Usually it was the other way around; her Sharon could be quite the morning person, and Brenda usually pouted, desperate for a few more hours in bed. This morning, though, she found herself uncomfortably aware of just how little time they had left. She could not bear to lose another moment.

She shifted, draping her body over the smooth plane of Sharon's back, running her fingers teasingly along Sharon's sides as she dropped kisses across Sharon's shoulders, up her neck to just under the auburn curls that tumbled wildly across the pillows. Sharon shivered under her touch but did not move, content for now simply to be touched by her insatiable lover.

Brenda almost spoke, almost told Sharon how much she loved her, almost begged Sharon to leave her husband so they could run away together, but she held her tongue. She worried about what Sharon might say, worried about losing what little time they had left. She kept her mouth shut and continued kissing, committing every inch of her Sharon to memory.

It was hard to reach all of Sharon this way but Brenda was hesitant to turn her over. She looked so peaceful lying still beneath Brenda's roving hands, her breath coming out slow and steady, until Sharon turned her head and said, her voice barely more than a sigh, "Wanna touch you."

Brenda shivered and obediently slid off the prone from of her lover beneath her. Sharon turned with fluid grace, her momentum carrying her over until it was the dark-haired woman draped over the little blonde. Brenda laughed, a sound that morphed into a contented sigh as Sharon peppered kisses along her jaw line. Brenda threaded the fingers of one hand in Sharon's hair, holding her close, while her other hand drifted down to squeeze the firm swell of Sharon's ass possessively. Sharon squeaked in surprise before dissolving into a charming fit of giggles.

Brenda didn't want this moment to end. The brightness of the early morning sun rising outside their window, the blessed peacefulness of being alone together, the light tinkling sound of Sharon giggling, naked and happy in Brenda's arms; this moment was perfect. But thinking about how badly she wanted to stay here only reminded Brenda of how very soon they would have to leave. She took advantage of Sharon's distracted state to pull the older woman's mouth to her own in a desperate, hungry kiss. Sharon returned the kiss readily, her mood changing from giddy to lustful in an instant. She placed a hand on either side of Brenda's head, balancing herself as she shifted until Brenda could feel the scratch of Sharon's curls against her mound, could sense the warmth emanating from between her lover's legs. Brenda moved the hand still resting on Sharon's ass, tracing teasing patterns across Sharon's side and stomach until she reached the warmth and wet at her center, sliding her hands between them to cup Sharon's sex, holding it in her hand, applying gentle pressure with her palm against the little bud of Sharon's clit. The older woman pulled her mouth away from Brenda's with a moan, grinding shamelessly against her lover's hand, and Brenda grinned smugly. She used the hand still caught in Sharon's hair to pull her lover's head down, lips latching onto the smooth sin of Sharon's neck as she gently pushed one finger inside Sharon's tight sheath, hearing the older woman's moan of approval, feeling the sound vibrating through Sharon's throat under her lips. She sucked hard on Sharon's pulse point, dimly aware of the fact that she was probably leaving a mark, and finding herself unable to care.

She added a finger and Sharon cried out again, her body warm and writhing on top of Brenda's and the little blonde reveled in the moment, in the sounds Sharon made, the smoothness of her sin, the wetness of her flesh pressed against Brenda's hand. She was close to coming, Brenda could tell, and that was all Brenda wanted. She wanted to feel Sharon come in a rush of sensation, wrapped in her arms, the way it always should have been. The only time Brenda felt this right, this sure of herself and her life, was when she was with Sharon. And when Sharon finally came, moaning her release, Brenda kissed the dark purple bruise she'd left and whispered, "I love you," knowing that the words were drowned out by the sound of Sharon's orgasm. And as Sharon came slowly back into herself, leaning down to capture Brenda's lips in a slow kiss, the blonde tried to convince herself that she was glad that Sharon hadn't heard her.

···

_It's too big,_ Sharon thought woefully, prodding gently at the hickey Brenda had left on her neck. _I'll never be able to hide it._ What was she going to do? How would she ever explain this to her husband? She though of Jack, of their sons, the life they'd built together, she thought of Brenda, the way she'd come to depend on her so completely. How could she choose? She could not imagine her life without her husband, but just the thought of giving up her little blonde lover made her heart break. _What am I going to do? _And even as the tears began to fall, tucked away in the airplane bathroom with Brenda just outside, blissfully unaware, Sharon couldn't help but wonder if everything, every stolen moment with Brenda and every fight with Jack over the last two years had been building to this. To this day when Sharon would be faced with a choice, and whatever decision she made would alter the course of her life forever.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay. You can blame my lady for that. This chapter picks up in **_**Strike Three**_**. As always, reviews are love!**

_···_

**Sharon **

_Bitch. _

The word rang in Sharon's mind like a slap to the face. She knew the Deputy Chief hadn't meant for her to hear, had just been venting some righteous frustration, but she'd heard, and it cut deeper than she had anticipated. She knew Brenda hated her now, knew she had done this to herself, knew that this was better than the alternative, but as she walked away from the little skinhead's bedroom she couldn't help the little tremor of sorrow that shot through her.

She hesitated for a moment in the hallway outside the bedroom, not wanting to go back inside to face the wrath of her former lover, not wanting to go into the living room where the dead teenager's mother was railing hatefully against an increasingly belligerent Provenza. When had this become her life? Until just a few months ago, Sharon actually had everything together. Sure she was tormented by the thought of Brenda just a few floors away; sure Andy Flynn hated her passionately and would call her _Wicked Witch _to anyone who would listen, but at least then she had her memories. And her pride. Now even her memories were tainted by Brenda's hatred of her, by of what she'd done to the little blonde. Precious moments that she had so often turned to for comfort were colored by the knowledge that she had loved Brenda when it was convenient, and turned her back the moment she was faced with the hard choice.

Finally her feet moved and then she was back in the fray, trying to calm the mother down, trying to keep Provenza from jumping down her throat, and for a while she was distracted. For a while she had something other than her own private misery to focus on, and she was, if not happy, at least not overwhelmed by misery.

**Brenda**

The Deputy Chief plopped down behind her desk with a soft _thud,_ her head dropping on the smooth wood surface.

She wanted a stiff drink, she wanted a ding dong, she wanted to go home and snuggle with Kitty (_oh God, Kitty's dead)_… she wanted so many things, but she didn't have time for any of that. She had a killer to catch, for heaven's sake! And yet, all she could feel right this second was exhaustion, coupled with a bizarre sort of guilt.

She regretted it the moment the word left her lips.

_Bitch._

Sharon was many things, but she was not a bitch. Even if she'd been completely rude and cold and impossible to deal with, she had not been a bitch. And even if she hadn't heard what Brenda said, it had still happened, and Brenda felt the guilt as sharply as if she'd spat the word in Sharon's face.

Straightening up slightly, Brenda ran her fingers through her hair and then scrubbed her face with her hands. She knew that Sharon didn't want her in her life, knew that their relationship had torn up Sharon's family, knew that was a hurt that could not be healed. Even so, she couldn't believe that Sharon could possibly have hated her as much as she appeared to. She saw the hurt in Sharon's face; years and years of working closely together had taught Brenda how to read the emotions that no one else ever saw, how to judge in just a moment what that flicker in the depths of Sharon's clear green eyes meant. And in the months since she'd first learned that Sharon was in LA, there had been moments when Brenda had seen past that haughty veneer to the heart of the woman she had once loved so fiercely, and there she had seen the truth that Sharon had not spoken.

Brenda had tried to hold on to her anger. Sharon had been so cruel, blaming Brenda for her divorce, and the casual way in which she'd revealed her relationship with Andy had cut Brenda to the core. She'd called him _Andy_. Sharon had left DC and fallen straight into Andy's arms; why was Andy good enough for her, when Brenda wasn't? Why had Sharon never tried to reach out to her?

The anger had fizzled out, however. Whenever Brenda tried to remind herself of Sharon and Andy, she found herself picturing Sharon, sad and lonely without her husband, with three young children to look after all on her own, thousands of miles away from all of her friends, looking for someone to hold her. When she thought of Sharon that way, it was hard to be angry with her. It was hard to want to do anything but be the one to step up, to run her fingers through Sharon's hair and tell her everything would be all right.

Only Brenda hadn't been the one. Brenda hadn't been there for her, because Sharon had left without so much as leaving a forwarding address.

Brenda cursed softly to herself and booted up her computer. Sharon was too confusing, too complicated for her right now. She needed to focus.

**Sharon**

"I have to ask, have you ever considered what your principles cost?"

Brenda looked so bitter, so disillusioned in that moment that it was difficult for Sharon to keep her face from betraying the turmoil roiling inside her. She knew what the question meant. Brenda might have been laying blame for dead cops at Sharon's feet, might have been questioning the very value of the job that Sharon had given her entire life to, but FID was not what put the quiet anger in Brenda's voice. This was the Brenda of years ago asking Sharon if she knew what she was doing, what kind of devastation her decisions had wrought. This was the Brenda of years ago pointing out the hypocrisy in breaking Brenda's heart under the guise of keeping her family together.

But that was not a question Sharon could answer. The cost of her principles, the moral guideposts that had dragged Sharon up and out of Brenda's bed all those years ago, was high, and Sharon knew it. Maybe too high. Those principles had put Sharon's kids through hell in the last few years of her marriage, had sent Jack headlong into the bottle, had left Sharon bitter and alone and had left Brenda Leigh a jaded shade of her old self. Sharon knew the cost, but she could not say it. Could not voice the apology that stuck in the back of her throat. Instead she feigned ignorance and answered the question on face value, talking about the importance of her work in a voice that held enough passion to be convincing for anyone.

Anyone but Brenda Leigh.

"There has to be a better way."

Brenda's voice was so close to breaking, and now Sharon wasn't sure what game they were playing. Was she talking about the dead cops? Or was Brenda talking about them? There had to be a better way for the two of them to work together, to pass each other in the halls and not feel this…this… this _hopeless_.

Sharon smiled tightly. "Well. Until then, you've got me."

She hoped Brenda got her meaning. This speaking in code, stepping around each other; this was a dance they knew very well, one they had practiced to perfection back in the days when they shared hotel beds and barrack bunks, living for the quiet peace of the nights they spent together and trying to communicate during days of deception their feelings for one another. Sharon was trying to make Brenda see that she was sorry for what she'd done, that she hadn't meant those hurtful things she'd said, that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them. That one day they might figure this out, that this stalemate, this bitter dispute between Captain Raydor and Chief Johnson, this was just for now.

She could only pray that Brenda remembered how to read her face.

Brenda pursed her lips, sighed, and changed the topic, and Sharon had to believe that this was enough for now.

**Brenda**

For the duration of the funeral, all Brenda could see was Sharon's face, sad and drawn, every line and wrinkle highlighted by her severe bun and the high neck of her uniform. FID stood across from Major Crimes, and though Brenda was surrounded by the high wall the men of her squad created, she had a clear view of Sharon from her place.

_Until then you've got me._

Brenda hoped she'd understood what those words meant. That Sharon did a hard job, a thankless job, because it was the best she could do. That Sharon had made the hard choices, because they were the best she could manage in the situation. And the longer Brenda Leigh stared at the quiet sadness on Sharon's face, the more she couldn't help but think that all of this, all this bitterness, all this anger, all this hurt, was futile. She was still Brenda, Sharon was still Sharon, and try as she might, Brenda Leigh couldn't forget what her Sharon meant to her. Couldn't look at her husband without feeling guilty, without feeling as though she were somehow cheating on _Sharon._

How fucked up was that?

The heat of the Los Angeles afternoon and the look on Sharon's face were all too much for Brenda to handle. Her thoughts flitted through her head, touching on places she'd rather not go, and before she knew it an afternoon in Paris was playing through her mind like a late-night Lifetime movie she couldn't turn off no matter how badly she wanted to.

_December 1996, Paris_

"I know baby, I know. I promise, I'll be home in time for Christmas," Sharon was saying, her voice shockingly steady given the fact that she was talking to her husband on the phone while she sat naked on the edge of a hotel bed with an equally naked Brenda behind her, carefully stitching up a gash on Sharon's left shoulder left by a poorly-aimed bullet. Jack was angry, Brenda could tell by the tension in the muscles under her hand. Playing doctor would be much easier if Sharon would just relax, but Brenda was constantly reminded that Sharon's family came first.

"Please don't shout," Sharon said softly into the phone as Brenda leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the skin just above the newly finished stitches. They weren't Brenda's best work but the little blonde's hands were still shaking as visions of the wounded man behind Sharon raising his gun to fire flashed in Brenda's mind. Brenda's lips lingered on the skin of Sharon's shoulder, warm and blessedly alive beneath her kiss. She couldn't help but think how ungrateful Jack was, yelling about Christmas plans when Sharon was very nearly ripped away from both of them less than an hour before.

Sharon sighed and leaned back against Brenda, giving the little blonde enough space to wrap her arms around Sharon's torso, propping her up as Jack continued to yell about whatever it was that was pissing him off today. Brenda was grateful just to hold Sharon in her arms, even when her lover's attention was focused somewhere else.

"I can't do this now," Sharon said, and Brenda hated how small her voice sounded, how defeated. Jack brought her down, made her sad, and all Brenda wanted was to see her Sharon happy. The way she should always have been. Brenda longed to take away her hurt, anyway she could.

"I love you, and I'll be home in a day or two. Kiss the boys for me," Sharon said, and then she leaned forward to drop the phone back in its place before turning to face Brenda.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her green eyes tired and more closed off than Brenda had seen them in days.

"Don't apologize," Brenda said, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Sharon's ear. "You have to take care of your family."

Sharon caught Brenda's wrist, brought it to her lips, kissed the sensitive skin stretched taut over pale blue veins and delicate bones. "I love my children," she said, flipping her hand so that her fingers entwined with Brenda's, "But some days it's too much. All of this is too much. I have too many balls in the air, and I feel like one of them is going to drop. Soon."

Brenda felt the slightest prick of tears in her eyes, blinked furiously to keep them at bay. Her Sharon, her strong, brilliant, brave Sharon. Sharon who only ever thought of what was best for the people she loved, who never chose to follow only her own happiness. Brenda had entertained the thought more than once, what it would be like if Sharon left Jack, if they made their relationship official, if they stopped hiding. She'd thought of how Sharon's kids would respond to her, how they would explain their relationship to the agency, to her parents. Being with Sharon would make her happier than anything else, and she truly believed that Sharon felt the same way, but it was so _complicated._

"I wish I'd met you years ago," Sharon sighed, their hands still joined, coming to rest on the warm bare skin of Sharon's thigh in a gesture that was not enticing, but comfortable. "Before all of this."

"But then you wouldn't have your kids," Brenda pointed out. She had met the boys on a handful of occasions, had seen the pictures in Sharon's office and in her wallet, had watched the way Sharon's eyes lit up when she spoke of them. Sharon loved her sons, and Brenda would never, could never, wish to take that away from her.

Sharon smiled sadly. "That's true." _And I wouldn't trade them for anything. _The words remained unspoken but they lay on the bed between the two women just the same. Sharon would never sacrifice her children; she would sacrifice her life _for _them, but she would never choose her own desires over their well-being. Brenda's poor Sharon, with her principles and her quiet suffering.

Now was not the time for bitterly lamenting what could never be; now was the time for celebrating the fact that Sharon was still alive, and that was something Brenda knew how to do. Brenda knew how to lose herself in the fire of Sharon's touch, knew how to heal her lover's hurt with her kiss, and she would do that now before Sharon sank even deeper into the melancholy that had settled over her heavy as a blanket.

Brenda leaned forward, closing the space between them and pushing Sharon down amongst the pillows as their lips met in a kiss of quiet passion. Brenda caught Sharon's other hand, raised both of them above her lover's head and held them there with one of her own, keeping the auburn haired temptress beneath her in place as her tongue delved deep into the mouth she loved so dearly, saying with her body what she could never say with her words. Sharon whimpered into her mouth and it was enough, just enough, to let Brenda know that Sharon was here with her in this hotel room with the afternoon sun lighting up a brilliant Paris day beyond their window. It was enough to let Brenda know that for now, she had her Sharon, and all was well.

Brenda ground down shamelessly, draping her legs over Sharon's thigh and letting the wetness that had begun to gather there paint the smooth skin below her. Just being here with Sharon, just holding her naked body, just kissing her, was enough to turn Brenda on beyond reason, and she wanted Sharon to know it. Sharon arched up beneath her, desperate to feel some of that arousal for herself and Brenda was more than happy to oblige. She abandoned Sharon's mouth for the as-yet uncharted territory of her neck and collarbones, releasing her lover's hands and feeling an odd rush of something like pride when she realized that Sharon had tangled her hands in the pillows, keeping them precisely where Brenda had left them.

Brenda ran her hands over the swells of Sharon's breasts, down over the taught muscles of her stomach, still so enticing, even after two children, and wrapped her fingers around Sharon's hips as her lips continued to wander slowly across Sharon's chest, as she continued to paint Sharon's leg with her wetness.

"Please," Sharon gasped, a breathy plea for more that sent a thrill Brenda's body.

"Please what baby?" Brenda asked from somewhere near Sharon's nipple and the auburn haired woman groaned.

When Sharon didn't answer with words Brenda nipped lightly at the dusky peak of Sharon's nipple and grinned mischievously up at her prone lover.

"What do you want, Sharon?" she asked. "My lips?" she wrapped them around Sharon's nipple, sucked the tender bud into her mouth until Sharon moaned. "My fingers?" She squeezed Sharon's hips before raising her own, giving her enough room to run her slender digits through the thatch of curls at Sharon's center and over the gathering wetness between her legs.

Brenda stared up at Sharon expectantly, taking in the dazzling sight of her lover, panting and flushed and desperate for her. She wanted so badly to take Sharon right there, to hear her, to feel her, but she wanted to give Sharon what she needed, and she resolved not to move until Sharon said exactly what she wanted.

Finally, finally, Sharon opened her eyes, meeting Brenda's even stare with a sort of need that the blonde couldn't recall having ever seen there before.

"Both," she breathed, the word barely more than a whisper, the color on her cheeks rising as it slipped past her lips, and Brenda smiled.

"All you have to do is ask," Brenda said, ducking her head down to Sharon's skin and resuming her task. Her fingers continued to tease between Sharon's folds, heavy with arousal and growing damper with each second as her lips traveled slowly, achingly slowly down Sharon's skin.

Sharon was whimpering continuously now, her breath coming out in sharp little needy sounds just from the thought of Brenda between her legs, inside her, and it was enough, more than enough, to spur Brenda on. Finally, finally, her lips drifted over the skin stretched tightly over the sharp protrusion of Sharon's hipbone and down over her thigh, and Sharon spoke again.

"Please," she said, fingers clutching the pillows behind her head so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, just from how badly she _wanted_ Brenda. Everything else, every other obligation that had been forced upon them was forgotten in this moment as they did only as they pleased, only sought to make each other happy.

Brenda moved her hands to part Sharon's thighs, leaned forward to drag her tongue along the dampness of Sharon's folds, and she took just a moment to revel in the perfection of the moment. Of them together. Of how right she felt, for however brief a time. She knew what Sharon wanted, what she needed, and she would give it to her.

Brenda kept one hand on Sharon's thigh, keeping her leg down as her lips captured the tiny bud of Sharon's clit and the fingers of her free hand came up, slipping and sliding through Sharon's wetness until the auburn haired woman moaned her need. Brenda pushed just one finger inside her lover as she gently laved her clit with her tongue, feeling the gush of Sharon's wetness around her, the rough and soft and the way Sharon's body gave to make room for her. Brenda had to push her own body down to keep Sharon's hips from flying off the mattress as her lover let forth a sound that was very nearly a scream, and the action caused Brenda to grind her own neglected clit against the rough blanket covering their hotel bed. They moaned together, voices rising as Brenda added a finger, thrusting up inside Sharon and suckling on her clit. Their passion built, a rising tide of need and want and maybe even love that grew and grew as Sharon's inner muscles clenched and fluttered around Brenda's fingers, trying to draw them further, deeper, closer.

"Close, so close" Sharon panted, arms straining above her head though she refused to lower them. Brenda could look up over her mound and see straight down Sharon's torso, her breasts heaving with every breath, her lips parted as she moaned, her eyes opened, focused on Brenda and nothing, no one else.

Without another thought Brenda sucked hard on Sharon's clit as she pushed a third finger inside Sharon's tight sheath and her lover came with a wail of her name, legs rising up to hold Brenda in place as she shuddered and cried and came apart under Brenda's steady onslaught.

They remained like that a while, Brenda resting in the cradle of Sharon's hips, easing her through the last of her orgasm with lingering kisses until Sharon finally lowered her arms and caught Brenda by the shoulders, dragging her back up until their lips were tangling and Brenda was sharing the flavor of Sharon's wetness with her lover. Sharon wrapped one arm across Brenda's back, pulling her close, and used the other to catch Brenda's still-wet fingers. With a smoldering look Sharon brought them to her own lips, cleaning each digit with enthusiastic lips and tongue, laving the sensitive skin of Brenda's fingertips until the blonde was shivering on top of her.

Brenda buried her face in the crook of Sharon's neck and Sharon kissed her hair fondly.

_LA, present day_

The funeral was over and everyone was breaking, heading back to their cars in solemn silence, and before Brenda could stop herself, she found her feet carrying her towards Sharon. Her Sharon.

The Captain stared at her in mild surprise, alone on the cemetery grass as her squad made their own way back to Parker Center. She shifted uncomfortably, hands running down the seams of her pants over her hips in a gesture that Brenda recognized as searching for her pockets. An old defense mechanism; Sharon was an expert liar, but when it really counted her hands shook, and she had taken to hiding them in her pockets to keep them from giving her away. Was she planning on lying now? What was she planning? What was she expecting? Brenda's thoughts swirled as she drew closer, still not certain of what she was going to say, just knowing that life was precious and too short and she _had _to try, had to speak to her Sharon just once before all of her memories were replaced by the bitterness of Captain Raydor.

"Sharon," Brenda said softly, purposefully, and she saw the expressions flicker across Sharon's face, the confusion, the hope.

"Chief," Sharon said, half-heartedly trying to hold on to her professionalism. They were still surrounded by uniformed officers after all; this was not a Paris hotel room.

"I was wondering if you and I could talk," Brenda said. Sharon's eyes darted to the officers milling around them, and Brenda added quickly, "Somewhere else. Somewhere private. Please?"

Sharon stared at her for a long time, so long that Brenda was beginning to fear the woman would simply walk away from her, from them. And then-

"There's a nice coffee shop near here," Sharon said. "Small, private. I can drive."

Brenda smiled, and nodded.


End file.
